Cheyenne Dancer

   "I can't believe I had to wear a monkey-suit."

   Hutch glanced back at Starsky, a smile playing about his sensuous lips. "We both had to, Starsk. It was a formal affair."

   "Yeah? Well, only for you, babe. The mayor could kiss my royal behind."

   Hutch laughed in response, shaking his head at Starsky's silliness, yet knowing at the same time, that Starsky was serious. He had only dressed up for Hutch's sake.

   Starsky couldn't keep his eyes off of Hutch. Hutch stood tall, straight and proud, with an easy grace that bespoke elegance as he ambled down the steps of the Plaza Hotel, the streetlights gleaming in the golden hair. The tux Hutch was wearing only served to accentuate Hutch's lean beauty. A lump lodged in Starsky's throat as a smile bloomed across his face. He skipped a couple of steps to catch up with his partner. "Hey, Hutch, wait up, buddy."

   Hutch turned around, one blond brow raised in query. "Don't be so slow, old man. I'm tired and ready to go home. Aren't you?"

   With a feeling of contentment, Starsky slid his arm around Hutch's waist, giving his partner a brief hug. Starsky had to fight the temptation to just leave his arm there and the world be damned. "Hey, babe, I just wanted to tell ya, that I'm proud of you. Watchin' ya in there hob-nobbin' with the rich and famous, I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. You were the most beautiful man in the whole room."

   Ducking his head shyly, Hutch glanced at Starsky from lowered lashes. "Thanks, Starsk."

   "Hey, that's not the only thing. Though it was kinda hard to keep my mind on business." Starsky ran his eyes suggestively down Hutch's broad-shouldered form, resting lightly on an area a few inches below his cummerbund, and raised his eyes back up to Hutch's face, Starsky's tongue just barely wetting his lips. Again, that irrepressible grin curled across Starsky's face. "It's 'bout time that they gave ya some kind of recognition. You really deserve it, babe."

   Starsky loved watching Hutch go all shy farm-boy on him.

   Hutch shoved his large hands in his pockets and kicked a can from the curb, watching as it bounced seamlessly down the tarred pavement. Starsky almost expected him to blush and say 'golly gee'. With a leap, Starsky landed on the sidewalk in front of Hutch, looking up into eyes the same color blue as a summer's sky. He felt his heart swell, beating a rapid tattoo against his chest, as if suddenly, like the Grinch, his heart had grown three times its size. It was difficult to resist the temptation to cup Hutch's square-jawed face in his hands and pull him down into a kiss.

   "Beautiful." Starsky rasped dryly, the beat of his heart overloud in his ears. "If I looked at you a hundred times, if I lived t'be a thousand, you'd always be beautiful to me."

   Hutch laughed, a sound full of love and joy. "Dummy, I'd be as wrinkled as an old prune and probably getting around in a wheelchair. If I could get around, at all."

   Waggling his brows, Starsky smirked, "Well, I'll change your bedpans for ya, babe."

   Hutch did color slightly then, shaking his head in fond bemusement. "Must be love." Hutch paused, lifting his hand and tapping Starsky briefly on his shadowed jaw. Hutch's voice was a soft purring caress to Starsky's ears. "Let's go home, babe."

   Reaching into his pocket, Starsky pulled out a set of keys, jangling them at Hutch, a mischievous gleam dancing in indigo eyes. "Ya mind driving, Hutch? I'm really tired, and had a little too much bubbly."

   As they made their way towards the garishly painted Torino, Hutch looked over at Starsky suspiciously, "You want me to drive your baby? You feeling okay, lover?"

   Starsky unlocked the passenger side door and tossed the keys to Hutch. With a nod, Starsky slid into the deep bucket seats. "Yeah, told ya, I'm just a little tired."

   Hutch unlocked the driver's-side door and settled into the seat, stretching his long legs and taking a few seconds to adjust the mirrors. Starsky delighted in watching Hutch's economical movements, and he shifted in his seat. His gaze was drawn to Hutch's strong hands as Hutch went about the routine of starting the car.

   Starsky nearly groaned. He could think of something he wanted Hutch to caress and hold with not-so-calm efficiency, and it wasn't the fucking steering wheel.

   Shooting Starsky a sidewise glance, Hutch pulled out onto the nearly empty street. "You okay, buddy?"

   "Oh yeah, babe. I was just thinkin'."

   "About?"

   Starsky shifted in his seat again, turning around to look at Hutch as the streetlights strobed by, making the interior of the car flicker like an old 1930's movie.

   "You." Starsky's eyes gleamed in the darkness, his voice was rough as a cat's tongue and sweet as warmed brandy in the confines of the car. Starsky delighted in teasing Hutch when there was little Hutch could do in protest.

   Moving as close as the gear shift would allow, Starsky leaned close enough to Hutch that his champagne flavored breath brushed across the big blonde's ear and tickled his face. "Wanna know what I was thinking babe?"

   Hutch squirmed in his seat, glancing doubtfully at Starsky.

   Starsky turned in the seat, sliding his right hand over Hutch's knee. "The whole time you were up there schmoozin' with the mayor, I couldn't help but think, that all I wanted to do, is get ya home," Lowering his voice to a deep whisper, Starsky continued, "and have ya fuck me long and hard. I want ya in me so deep I can feel your dick tickle my tonsils." Starsky gave Hutch's knee a little squeeze, slowly sliding his hand up along Hutch's thigh, enjoying the flex of muscle beneath the soft dark cloth of Hutch's trousers.

   Hutch's foot accidentally slammed down on the accelerator, the Torino leaping forward. "Shit. Starsky, you're going to make me wreck the car!"

   Starsky laughed softly. "What'sa matter, Blintz, can't ya take it? Preferably deep, long, slow and hard."

   Hutch swallowed visibly, stirring in his seat, his hips raising slightly.

   Starsky took that as an invitation and slid his palm over Hutch's rapidly swelling groin, stroking Hutch's dick through the soft material of the tuxedo pants. "S'matter, gorgeous? Need a little help here?" Starsky let his hand rest, cupping Hutch's genitals. He slid his left hand behind Hutch's neck, letting his thumb play in the wispy hairs.

   Hutch shuddered beneath his hand, a sudden inhale of breath telling Starsky that he was dancing on the edge of danger. This time Hutch intentionally increased the speed of the Torino, dodging down the dark streets at a reckless rate. Hutch's voice was quiet, strain evident in the vibrating tones, "Your place or mine, Starsk?"

   Squeezing the burgeoning erection beneath his fingers, Starsky gave a sloe-eyed smile, "Mine, I wanna see you in the mirror. I wanna watch you plunge into me. I wanna watch you make me yours over 'n' over again." Starsky began a rhythmic kneading, timing each stroke with the wild pulse beat he could feel beneath his hand. Starsky's voice, deep and dark, whispered across the intimate darkness, "I want ya t'fuck me."

   Hutch moaned softly, barely restraining himself from closing his eyes. "Damn it, Starsky, the things you do to me!"

   Smirking, Starsky leaned closer, blowing warm air across Hutch's ear, sharp eyes taking in Hutch's answering shiver. "Not yet, but soon." Pushing the cummerbund upwards, Starsky nimbly pulled down the zipper of Hutch's pants. The rasping sound of the zipper counterpoint to Hutch's sudden intake of air.

   "Starsk! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hutch's startled voice punctuated his panicked reaction.

   "If ya can't tell, Blondie, it's been way too long." Starsky laughed at him, sliding his warm callused hand inside Hutch's zipper. It was Starsky's turn to raise his brows in surprise. Leaning closer he kissed Hutch's jaw, the feel of stubble adding to the excitement. "No underwear, Blintz? You're a very bad boy. I'm gonna haveta punish you for bein' such a tease."

   Hutch gulped, lurid images conjured by Starsky's words teasing through his brain. "Starsk..." He began warningly.

   Starsky ignored Hutch's half-formed protest, tickling through the fine hairs below Hutch's belly, curling his fingers through the soft curls about the base of Hutch's cock. Starsky gave his lover's jaw a small nip, moving his head lower to lick about the high collar of the starched shirt. "Can never get enough of you, y'know?" He whispered against Hutch's neck, tasting the salt of sweat mixed with the tang of Hutch's spicy aftershave.

   Hutch's breathing hitched, "Damn it, Starsky! We're in the car! We'll get arrested or... or something!" Hutch was finding it hard to remain coherent, struggling to keep his concentration on the road. "Ten minutes, Starsky, we're just ten minutes away from your apartment." Hutch pleaded. He could make it. He could... he yelped as Starsky's hand closed on his throbbing cock.

   Starsky's laugh reverberated through the shadows of the car and danced like St. Vitas' Day fire along Hutch's overheated flesh. "I don't think I can wait ten minutes, lover."

   Hutch's voice shook, hot and heavy in the small space, "Starsk, w-we agreed, no PDA."

   "Naw. You made the rule, lover. And you know what they say 'bout rules, don'cha?" Starsky rasped softly, "They're made to be broken. 'Sides... we're not in public. We're in a car."

   Starsky bit Hutch's neck, knowing that there would be a mark there in the morning, loving the fact that he could mark Hutch like this, loving the fact that Hutch wouldn't be able to hide it. That Hutch would have to go into the station and be teased about the female piranha, knowing all along that it was Starsky's mark on him.

   Almost conversationally, Starsky continued, "'Course, if a truck comes along, the driver's liable to get an eyeful." Starsky sucked on the small bite mark blossoming on Hutch's fair skin, then licked it, Hutch's short rapid breath's letting Starsky know that he was paying attention.

   "Or a cop could pull us over. You're drivin' awful fast, there, babe... And he'd love it. Seein' ya all flushed like this, your pants open, you're dick exposed to his view. Uh-huh. An' he'd try to take you in, too. But not me. 'Cause all he really wants to do is get ya alone." Starsky's voice dropped deeper, almost purring, "'Because he wants you. Bad. As bad as I do, lover. But I won't share. You're mine. And that's all there is to it."

   Hutch's tongue ran over his lips, moistening them, his hands were clutching the steering wheel so tight, he was sure it would turn to powder in his white-knuckled grip. He tried to turn his head towards Starsky, but Starsky interrupted. "Ah... ah... ah... Keep your eyes on the road, babe." Laughter threaded through Starsky's voice.

   Starsky pulled the hot, pulsing cock out of Hutch's pants, watching Hutch tremble as the cool air washed over Hutch's heated organ. "God, I love your dick, Hutch. So thick and beautiful, nestled in all those honey-colored curls... " Starsky slid his hand experimentally from the base of the cock to the tip, squeezing the tip with gentle fingers.

   "I love your balls, too, babe." Starsky slid his other hand down the opening of Hutch's pants, to gently roll the lightly furred orbs. "They're just the right size, y'know? I can take one of them in my mouth and suck 'til ya moan."

   "God." Hutch's voice was a hoarse whisper, a prayer, a benediction. Hutch spread his thighs as far apart as he could, giving Starsky access to his body. Starsky pulled the pants lower about Hutch's hips, exposing the pale flesh to Starsky's greedy gaze.

   Massaging Hutch's thick shaft with knowing fingers, Starsky continued to whisper, "I wanna go down on you. Here, in the car. Take your hot meat in my mouth... " Starsky pulled on Hutch's penis, sliding his hand up around the head, circling it with thumb and forefinger, applying pressure.

   Hutch couldn't help but raise his hips. The car fishtailed as Hutch took a turn too quickly and had to fight to get it back under control. Words wouldn't crawl out of his throat, his heart was pounding, sweat dewed his face, dampening his hair. The strobe of the streetlights alternating light and dark matched the wild pulse racing through his veins.

   "I wanna lick at your slit... just right there... " Starsky ran his thumb around the crown of Hutch's cock, "I wanna taste you... shove my nose so deep into your curls that I taste your musk all bitter and sweet on my tongue."

   A thrill of power ran through Starsky as he continued to stroke Hutch's cock, quickening his strokes in time with Hutch's breathing... grip... release... stroke... rub... grip.... release. Hutch was making small erratic thrusts with his hips, his control obviously gone. Starsky loved doing this to Hutch, loved watching him struggle for control and fail, loved the sense of absolute power and love he got when Hutch gave in to him.

   Starsky could feel Hutch's dick swell suddenly in his hand. "I wanna make you shudder, and buck... " Starsky leaned over, ducking beneath Hutch's arms, licking cat-like at the oozing liquid dribbling from the tip of Hutch's dick.

   When Starsky's lips touched the soft damp velvet head of Hutch's penis, Hutch gave a broken cry, whipping the Torino around and into an alley, he hit the brakes, bringing the car to a careening halt that Starsky would tease him about for days. Hutch's hips raised, seeking the moist heat of Starsky's mouth and Hutch let go another moan closer to a sob.

   A stream of thick white cream splattered against Starsky's face and hand, landing in thick globs on Hutch's exposed belly and staining the dark material of his pants. Starsky lapped at the warm liquid, enjoying the essence of Hutch, licking the cock and pale belly clean.

   Hutch rested his head on the steering wheel between his hands, his breath came in harsh stuttering gasps, soft inarticulate sounds issued from his throat at the warm, wet heat of Starsky's tongue lapping the last of the tell-tale traces from his flesh.

   With a tender smile, Starsky straightened, pulling Hutch's pants back up around his hips and carefully tucking the now lax genitals back behind the stiff zipper. With a slow snicking sound, he zipped the trousers back up, leaving his hand lying possessively on the soft mound now hidden and quiescent beneath the dress pants, he raised his eyes to look at Hutch.

   Hutch's voice quavered the distance between them, his face still buried against the wheel, "You're crazy, you know that?"

   Starsky feathered his fingers lightly through the gleaming silk of Hutch's hair, before resting his hand on the back of Hutch's neck. He curled his hand lovingly about Hutch's neck. He gently tugged on Hutch until his partner turned to face him.

   Hutch's face was still flushed, the pupils overlarge, his lips swollen from where he had bitten them in his attempt to maintain his concentration. Starsky searched his partner's eyes in the dimness.

   "Yeah, I know." He husked, with a half smile; Starsky lifted both his hands, framing Hutch's face between the wide square palms. Unconditional love reflected back at him from the incandescent blue of Hutch's eyes, and Starsky felt an almost worshipful devotion sweep through him as he fell in love with Hutch all over again.

   He ghosted a kiss along Hutch's full lips.

   "Let's go home, babe. I wanna hold ya tonight."

THE END