Sweet Submission

By CC

"I'm not going in there," Hutch declared as Starsky pulled the Torino to a stop.

Starsky ignored him and turned off the engine. "You're going in there, so quit arguing."

"This is your problem."

"No, it's our problem, and you're going in there."

"This is crazy! I'm perfectly satisfied with our sex life."

"No, Hutch, apparently you're not." Starsky twisted around in his seat to face his partner. "You changed the TV channel in the middle of what was supposed to be a mind-altering blow job--"

Hutch threw up his hand in exasperation. "I was trying to turn the damn thing off, and I hit the wrong button."

"And managed to land on that PBS special you've been creaming your jeans over for the last month," Starsky continued softly, his twinkling eyes giving lie to the sternness of his voice.

"If it bothers you so much--"

"What bothers me is that I was listening to the channel you changed it from. The Dodgers were ahead by one with two on and only one out."

Hutch stared at him in disbelief. "This is all because you missed the rest of the game?"

"No, dummy.  It's because I was listening to the game at all." Starsky sighed and looked out the window. "What's happening to us, Hutch? There was a time when a semi-truck could have driven through the bedroom while we were doing it, and I wouldn't have even noticed.  Now I can give you a play-by-play of what was on television at the same time I used to be trying to make your eyes roll back in your head." He looked back at Hutch. "I didn't think this would happen after only four months but face it, we're in a rut."

"No, you're insane is what you are, and I'm even more insane for living with you." Hutch shifted closer to the passenger door as Starsky shifted closer to him. "Get away from me."

"No. Lookit, when's the last time one of us had to wear a turtleneck to work the morning after? Or the last time we did it on the living room floor because we couldn't make it as far as the bedroom? When's the last time we had to stop by the house for a little 'afternoon delight'?"

"Starsky, our sex life is perfectly fine." Looking out the window, Hutch added quietly, "At least it is for me."

"I didn't say it wasn't fine, did I?" Starsky squeezed Hutch's leg reassuringly. "I'm just suggesting it might be time to spice things up a little." He let his hand slip between Hutch's thighs.

"We're in a public place, you moron." Hutch twisted his head to look up and down the deserted street.

"I know where we are," Starsky said, leaning closer. "Makes it exciting, doesn't it?"

"No, it makes it a prime opportunity for us to be arrested on an L&L charge." Hutch snapped.

Starsky wasn't fooled; Hutch's legs had spread a good three inches since he had touched him.

Inching his hand up his lover's thigh, Starsky leaned even closer. Still intent on watching the deserted street, Hutch completely missed the devilish expression on Starsky's face.

"The way I see it," Starsky said, lowering his voice to the husky rumble Hutch loved. "You've got two choices." His hand stopped just below Hutch's crotch.

"W-what choices? W-what the hell are you t-talking about?" Hutch babbled.

Starsky's hand zeroed in on its target and caressed the denim-covered mound. "You can let me blow you right here, right now…or you can get out of the car and go into that store with me." He lifted his hand as if reaching for Hutch's zipper.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Hutch was out of the car and on the sidewalk in a flash.

"Do I know this guy or what?" Starsky chuckled to himself and followed Hutch out the passenger door.

As they walked down the short block to Larry's Love Dungeon, Hutch tried one last time. "Starsk, what are we supposed to say if someone sees us going into this…this place." He waved his arm at the dingy storefront, which advertised 'One-Stop Shopping for All Your Leather Needs.'

Starsky pulled Hutch to a stop beside him. "No one cares, Hutch. Okay, you do," he amended quickly as Hutch prepared to argue. "But no one else cares. Look around you; this area is deserted. The owners probably picked this place to protect people's privacy. See, the windows are even painted over. Besides, on the off chance anybody asks, we can just say we're looking for a suspect. Okay?"

Hutch nodded, looking so demoralized that Starsky couldn't resist putting a reassuring hand under his elbow. "C'mon, we'll just have a look around," he said, guiding Hutch to the door and holding it open for him. "After you."

"No way. You first."

"Okay, okay," Starsky sighed and stepped into the store.

Larry's Love Dungeon was larger than Starsky had thought it would be and a lot less discreet. Just inside the door was a rack filled with plastic blow-up dolls--both female and male. Sensing Hutch lurking at his shoulder, Starsky turned to comment on the dolls. Suddenly a woman's voice from the opposite corner hailed him.

"Starsky! Hutch! Never expected to see you guys in here."

Both men whirled around.

After a stunned silence, Hutch found his voice first.  "Rae?" he asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?" 

Seated on a stool behind the front counter idly perusing a catalog was a woman they'd known for many years. What Rae didn't know about tattoos wasn't worth knowing, and she had been instrumental in helping them many times over the years in identifying sources and origins for exotic tattoos.

"Tattoo business ain't what it used to be," Rae answered frankly. "About a year ago, my old man bought this store, and I just moved my business in here. It all kind of fits together if you think about it; don't it?"

Starsky and Hutch nodded, not knowing how else to respond.

"Say, what brings you guys here?" It was hard to tell if her eyes were narrowed in suspicion or as a result of the smoke from the ever-present cigarette dangling from her mouth.

"Looking for a suspect--"

"Looking for a gift--"

Belatedly realizing his gaffe, Starsky blushed and shuffled backwards only to be elbowed forward again by Hutch. Starsky grinned sheepishly at Rae and shrugged one shoulder.  "Looking for a gift for a suspect?"

Rae studied them quietly for a moment, apparently appraising the situation. "Say, if you guys are going to be in here for fifteen minutes or so, do you mind showing yourselves around? I want to run around the corner and grab a sandwich."

"Uh, sure," Starsky replied, glancing at Hutch, who had taken a pamphlet off a shelf and buried his nose in it. "But what if someone--"

Rae laughed. "Not likely I'll get any other customers this time of day. To be on the safe side, I'll put up the 'out to lunch' sign."  Without giving him a chance to say another word, Rae was off her counter stool and out the door, leaving a metal window sign clanking against the door in her wake.

Even before the sign had quieted, Starsky felt something whack him on the back of the head. Turning, he found Hutch glaring at him, the tube he'd made of his pamphlet raised to strike Starsky again.

Starsky snatched the paper out of Hutch's hand. "What is your problem now?"

"What happened to 'we're looking for a suspect'? She knows, Starsk. Rae knows why we're in here."

"She caught me by surprise is all; I got confused. For all she knows, we're just curious, which happens to be the truth. Besides, I like it better this way. We don't have to whisper. We can just be ourselves." Starsky turned his attention to the pamphlet. "Hey, this is like a guide. It's got a glossary, a map and everything--just like Disneyland. How 'bout that?"

"I knew I should have stayed in the car."

"Hutch," Starsky warned.

"Well, I don't understand why I have to even be here. You're the one with th-this…curiosity all of a sudden. Why couldn't you have just stopped here one day while you were out doing…whatever it is you do when you're not irritating me? You could have picked out--"

"Because that's not the point," Starsky said, stuffing the pamphlet into his back pocket. "The idea is that we would come here together and see if there was anything we were interested in trying out…together. This is not about me trying to make you do something you don't want to do."

Hutch's exaggerated sigh was almost comical and on a normal day, Starsky would have teased him. But this wasn't a normal day. There was too much at stake.

"Lookit, all I'm asking is that you keep an open mind, Hutch.  Say the word and we'll leave right now, but mark my word: we're going to change something or.…" Starsky let his eyes complete the sentence for him, then waited for Hutch to really hear what he was saying. His partner could be difficult to read sometimes, but today wasn't one of those days. Wisps of anger, fear, and something approaching desperation floated across his face. Although he felt some remorse for putting Hutch through this, Starsky knew only that he needed to do something to make his lover see that they were on the edge of a downward spiral. Hutch, if left to his own devices, would bury his head in the sand until it was too late.

Starsky got his wish. A dip of Hutch's head and a half-hearted shrug told him he'd won this round.

"Hell, we're already here. Might as well look around," Hutch grumbled as his eyes darted around the room. Attempting to salvage his dignity, he raised his warning finger. "I want one thing straight up front. There is no way in hell--I repeat, no way in hell--I'm about to stick my dick in one of those things." He pointed to the display of blow-up dolls.

"The man or the woman?" Starsky asked, working hard not to smile.

"Neither. Those things are hideous."

Starsky studied the doll in question, a blonde female replica, slightly deflated, with fuschia-painted lips eternally set in a perfect 'O.'  "She looks surprised, doesn't she?"

"Well," Hutch observed. "If you want to buy her--or her twin brother there--at least you won't have to worry about teeth."

They both laughed then, and Starsky decided to press his good fortune. He playfully shoved Hutch ahead of him to the back of the store.  Unfortunately the first aisle was filled with ladies lingerie. //Smooth move, Starsky. Remind him what he's missing//.

As they slowly made their way down a tunnel of silk and lace, Starsky couldn't resist reaching out and touching a delicate silk chemise. He fingered the lacy hem, trying to remember the last time he had touched such a garment. 

"Would you look at this?" Hutch's tone was a mixture of wonder and disgust.

Starsky dropped the chemise and joined him farther down the aisle. Hutch was studying a display of lacy undergarments that, according to the accompanying sign, were available in sizes to fit 'most men.' He picked up a black, silk teddy, aptly labeled 'Big Teddy Bear' and held it in front of him.  "This do anything for you?"

"Hutch."

"C'mon, Mr. Open Mind, you've got about five more seconds." 

Shrugging, Starsky closed his eyes and tried to imagine Hutch's pale skin beneath the silky black lace. It wasn't an unattractive possibility, but there was something that didn't…. "No, not really."

"Not really, or not at all?" Hutch teased.

Cheeks growing warm, Starsky looked at the floor. "Well, I was just thinking…. I was remembering how it felt…you know, before….um, when I was with a woman, and I slipped my fingers underneath the straps of whatever she was wearing and then pushed them off her shoulders, like unwrapping a gift. Most of 'em seemed to really like that." He stared into space a moment more and then shrugged. "I liked it."

Hutch took a dubious last look at the garment before returning it to the shelf. "I've got an old muscle shirt, I think. Will that work?" He smiled slyly and then continued down the aisle.

Starsky snorted. "That'll do." Catching up, he tugged on Hutch's shirt. "Hey, what would you have done if I'd said I wanted to see you in that thing?"

"You would've been standing here by yourself."

"Thought so."

As they rounded the aisle's endcap, Hutch pointed to a pair of men's boxers with the words 'EAT MY SHORTS' emblazoned across the front. "I could probably manage these, though," he said in mock seriousness.

"Definitely more your style," Starsky said, smiling as he realized Hutch's earlier tension had melted away. His heart beat a little faster with the knowledge that Hutch would capitulate like this for him.

He nudged Hutch forward along the aisle devoted to men's underwear. Midway down the aisle, they reached a shelf of torso-only mannequins modeling a variety of thong-style briefs.  Starsky, always curious, reached up to touch a fur-covered plastic crotch.  "Feel this, Hutch."

"No, thank you."

"Oh, c'mon." Starsky pulled Hutch's hand up to the display. "Doesn't that feel nice? Run your fingers through it."

"It's fake, Starsk."

"I know it's fake."

Starsky felt Hutch shift closer to him, then his lover's breath against his ear.

"Why would I want to feel some stupid fake fur when I've got a man covered in the real thing? Would you tell me that?"

Low and sultry, Hutch's voice rumbled into Starsky's ear and straight to his groin. "If you wanna explain to Rae why there's a big, wet spot on my pants, keep talkin' like that."

Hutch backed away, laughing softly.

While they were examining a black leather thong with a strategically placed fake zipper, Starsky was caught off guard when Hutch asked, "Does it ever bother you?"

Starsky tried to correlate the question with the zippered thong, but drew a blank.  "Does what bother me?"

Hutch pretended to study a package containing leopard skin briefs. "That I don't…well, that I don't have a lot of hair?"

"Hutch, you've had thin hair ever since--Oh, you mean on your body? Are you crazy?" Starsky pulled Hutch to face him and ran a hand across his chest. "When I touch you, I feel…shit, I hate not being good with words.  I can't explain it right, but when I touch you, it's like I'm touching silk at first--all smooth and soft on the surface, but then I start to feel your muscles. The slightest pressure and all your strength is there and I--" Starsky looked down, suddenly realizing his hands were mimicking his words and Hutch's eyes were beginning to dilate. "Oh, sorry."

Hutch grabbed the hand Starsky lifted from his chest, entwining their fingers before resting their joined hands against his chest again. "Don't want you to stop, but we really won't be able to explain both of us walking around with wet spots."

"Good thinking." Starsky straightened the front of Hutch's shirt. "Can I tell you something, Hutch?"

"Anything."

"I didn't tell you this before--well, not in so many words, but I was glad when you got rid of that mustache."

"I know." Hutch's eyes twinkled. "You practically gnawed my upper lip in half the night I shaved it off."

"Haven't thought about that night in a long time. That was the first night I let you…" Starsky's leer was practiced and effective.

Hutch groaned softly. "The pants, Starsk. Remember the pants."

The next aisle was devoted to books, videos and a few novelties. They were halfway down the aisle before Starsky realized that Hutch had never let go of his hand.  An electric tingle worked its way up from his toes. He, David Starsky, was walking through a store holding hands with his lover.  More than that, his lover was holding hands with him--in public.  Every nerve ending in his body was traceable to his hand at that moment, and he was suffused with a joy he couldn't fully comprehend. He had always loved Hutch's hands, so tender and gentle when they comforted or caressed him, strong and sure when they carried him to ecstasy.  But those were almost always private times, hidden away from the world's scrutiny and censure.  A deserted store wasn't exactly Main Street, but a lump suddenly developed in Starsky's throat with this simple act of affection.

Just then, Hutch's thumb flicked across the back of his hand, a movement that made Starsky's stomach flutter.  He tried to steal a glance at his lover, who was reading the back of a video carton, but Hutch caught the movement. He looked at Starsky curiously.

"What's with the smiles?" Hutch asked, smiling in return.

Starsky's cheeks were aching from smiling so much, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "'S nothing."

Hutch jiggled his hand. "C'mon, it's something, and from the look on your face, I'd say it's something big."

"I don't know, really. It's just that we've…," Starsky shrugged. "We've never held hands like this before."  He had to clamp his fingers down tightly as Hutch tried to let go.  "No, no. It feels good. Really good. We don't get to do this…ever."

Hutch smiled again. "Wouldn't we look cute walking into the station like this?" He squeezed Starsky's hand.

"Are you kidding? We'd look cute anywhere." Starsky grinned and squeezed back.

They were still laughing when they rounded the corner to the next aisle, but the sight that awaited them stopped them in their tracks. Jutting from the middle of neatly stacked shelves on either side of the aisle were display shelves neatly lined with rows of penises of every size, shape, color and material imaginable.

"This is just plain scary, Starsk."

"Might not be so bad if there weren't impaled on those spindle things."

Hutch snorted. "Does look a little like an angry lesbian's trophy room."

"Look, they have names." Starsky studied the small white labels in front of each display. "Aww, this one looks a little like you, Hutch." Starsky pointed to the twelve inch 'Boyfriend' model."

Blushing but laughing, Hutch shook his head. "Think you're confusing me with your other lover."

Starsky pretended to wince. "Didn't think you knew about him," he teased. "Hey, this one really does look like you." he wrapped his hand around the more realistic seven inch dildo labeled simply 'Him,' but quickly let it go. "Ugh. Feels like a corpse." He moved on to the next one, but stopped when he sensed Hutch staring at him. "What?"

"Is that personal experience talking? Have you been spending your spare time down at the morgue checking out the new arrivals?"

Once again, Starsky's face heated up. "No, but feel it--it's cold. No pulse, no life."

Hutch reached up to test. "Yech. I see what you mean. Not very realistic after all, huh?"

"How can anyone call any of these realistic?" Starsky asked, sweeping his hand above a display of brightly-hued battery operated dildos. "Tell me when you've ever seen a lime green dick. And what's this..aber..ahber…" He stumbled over the label in front of a dusky purple dildo until Hutch peered over his shoulder.

"Aubergine.  It's French for eggplant, which doesn't really describe this at all since eggplants are really more of a blackish-purple." Hutch eyed the toy disdainfully. "People just like to say aubergine, I think."

Starsky stared at his partner. "And you say I know weird stuff."

"Actually, Starsk," Hutch pointed to 'Aubergine.' "This is almost the exact color yours gets right before you--"

"Hutch! It does not."

"Hey, it's better than being lime green."

Starsky thought about it and then shrugged. "That's true, I guess.  Hey, will ya look at this!"  He tugged Hutch along the aisle with him, stopping in front of a large exhibit of anal toys. Plugs, probes and dildos of every size, color and shape lined the shelves. Although he considered himself somewhat savvy on sex play, Starsky had never considered anal toys and had no idea so many were available.

"I suppose you'll want to try this," Hutch said, needing both hands to pick up a dildo in the shape of a man's arm and fist. Though actually smaller than an average man's arm, the length and girth were still impressive.

Watching Hutch heft the object a couple of times before placing it back on the shelf, Starsky struggled to swallow. Just the thought of something that large…. "Not in this lifetime, thank you. I'm just now getting used to--" He stopped, embarrassed at his admission.

"Yeah," Hutch responded gently. "I know."

Feeling a need to break the uncomfortable silence, Starsky pointed to a small, slim torpedo-shaped vibrator. "Seems a little tame in comparison to that thing." He nodded to the plastic arm. When Hutch didn't respond, he looked over at him quickly.

Hutch caught the look and shrugged. "Um…actually…" He scratched his forehead and then the back of his neck--absolute 'tells' to Starsky that something interesting would follow.

"What?" Starsky prompted.

"It…I've…we...um…," Hutch mumbled, his face reddening. "The thing is…. "

"C'mon, spit it out."

Hutch scratched his forehead again, then mumbled something Starsky couldn't make out.

"Again, this time so I can hear you." Starsky moved closer, effectively trapping Hutch against the shelf.

"I said I've used one of those before." Hutch's voice rang out in the empty store, and he looked around guiltily.

Starsky looked from Hutch's beet-colored face to the vibrator and back again. "You?" He picked up the vibrator. "You used one of these?"

Looking like he wanted to do nothing more than crawl under the bottom shelf, Hutch nodded.

"Well, I'll be damned." Starsky studied the plastic device for a minute, a dozen questions running through his mind. He started with the one uppermost in his mind. "What's it feel like?"

"Good."

Starsky rolled his eyes and drew a patient breath. "Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Hutch."

"Look, I'd just rather not talk about it, okay? A guy's entitled to keep some things to himself, you know."

"No, you look. I had to listen to you whine and gripe the whole way over here that you wouldn't be caught dead in a store like this, and now I find out you've been in a store like this? No, you're gonna talk." Starsky used the dildo instead of his finger to jab Hutch's chest for emphasis.

"Starsk, I have never been in a store like this; that, I can promise you." Hutch slapped the dildo away.

The implications of Hutch's words slowly sank in, and Starsky poked him in the chest again. "Ohhhh, so you were with someone when you--" The toy was rudely jerked from Starsky's hand and slammed on the shelf.

"Of course, I was with someone. You didn't think I used it by myself, did you?"

Starsky shrugged. "How the hell was I supposed to know? You never talked about it."

The jangle of the metal sign on the front door stopped the argument immediately. "You fellas doin' okay?" Rae's voice drifted to the back of the store.

The two men froze and looked at each other. Finally, Starsky turned and called out, "Sure, Rae, we're just looking around."

"Okay," Rae said, then paused. "Say, if you're gonna be here a few more minutes, mind if I run over to the post office? You'd really be doin' me a favor."

Starsky looked at Hutch, who shrugged. "Sure thing, Rae."

"Great. I'll be back in a few minutes then." The sign clanked once more and was silent.

When Starsky turned back to his partner, he found Hutch had continued down the aisle without him. 

"Hey, wait up." He started to follow, but his attention was diverted by a strange-looking package.  A picture of a woman with what appeared to be a twelve-inch penis strapped onto her pelvis adorned the cover of the box, and it took Starsky almost a full minute to register the purpose of such a toy.  He raised the box to show it to Hutch, intending to teasingly ask if he had one of these in his history, too, but he quietly put the box back on the shelf. Something about the way Hutch was studiously staring up at the ceiling had convinced him that there were indeed some things a guy was entitled to keep to himself. 

For a little while longer, at least.

The next aisle contained more sex toys, only the emphasis seemed to be more on pain than pleasure if the pictures on the packages were any indication.  Starsky moved closer to Hutch, who was studying a cardboard blister pack.

"The Gates of Hell? What's that?" The package held a cylinder-shaped object composed of metal rings in graduated sizes, with the smallest on one end and the largest on the other. Two thin but sturdy strips of metal held the rings in place.

"Well, uh, I think the idea is to put this on and as you…uh, get aroused, the blood flow is trapped and it, uh…."

"And it hurts like hell," Starsky exclaimed, jerking the package from Hutch's hands and slapping it on a shelf. "No way we're buying that thing."

Hutch smirked. "So long as we're keeping an open mind."

"Oh, shut up." Starsky's elbow found a target in Hutch's diaphragm. "Hey, you ever use one of these?" He held up a package containing a black leather cock ring.

"Starsk, don't you think that's a little personal?"

"No, Mr. Good Vibrations, considering what I've learned about you in the last five minutes, I don't think it's too personal. But you must've used one before seeing how your face is turning alberjean."

"Aubergine." Hutch snatched the package away and tossed it on the shelf. "And for your information, I have not used a cock ring before."

Starsky picked up another package. "D'ya want to? This one's only four ninety-five." He peered at it more closely. "Hey! It's even got a leash." He held the package up for Hutch's inspection.  The two men stood silently staring at the picture on the package.

Starsky laughed first with Hutch following almost immediately. Soon, they were both doubled over, holding their stomachs.  When he could finally speak again, Starsky rasped, "I can't imagine how me leading you around the bedroom with your dick on a leash is supposed to be erotic."

"Me either." Hutch wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, his expression slowly changing to one of puzzlement.

"What?" Starsky put the package back on the shelf.

"Huh? Oh, nothing." Hutch shook his head.

Although he really wanted to know what the 'nothing' was that had flashed across Hutch's face, he decided to let it ride. For the moment.  He turned his attention to a pegboard display filled with whips, floggers, paddles and assorted leather harnesses and restraints. "Now, this is something I could get into."

Hutch joined him at the display. "Oh, really. I didn't figure you for the bondage and discipline type." He pulled a small flogger off its peg and flapped its leather tails against his palm.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hold out your hand."

"Why?" Starsky eyed the flogger warily.

"Just do it."

"Okay, but you better not--OW!" Starsky brought his aching hand up to his chest and cradled it there. "Damn it, Hutch, that hurt."

"I rest my case." Hutch returned the flogger to its peg and walked down the aisle.

Studying the back of his hand for breaks in the skin he was sure were there, Starsky followed. "You think Rae has any ice?" He looked up when Hutch laughed. "Is this entertaining you?"

Hutch lifted Starsky's hand for a closer look. "There's not even a red mark, you big baby."

Starsky let Hutch massage the sore spot with his thumb a few seconds before snatching his hand away. "Shut up."

"But this proves my point...well, this and the fact that you can't be still for more than five minutes.  You're not exactly the type to enjoy being tied up and whipped."  Hutch snorted, then laughed.

Starsky willed himself to drop his hand to his side even though it still smarted. "I'll have you know I wasn't thinkin' of me bein' the one tied up." He reached up and lightly smacked Hutch's jaw a few times as he brushed past him. 

"Very funny, Starsky, very funny." 

Any further argument was cut off when Starsky noticed a strange box on the shelf next to Hutch.

"What the hell is this? Electro-stimulator? Does that do what I think it does?" Starsky's hand instinctively covered his crotch. "Why in the hell would anybody want to do that?"

"I take it this isn't likely to make your list," Hutch said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Too bad, I was thinking it looked like fun."

"Bullshit. Put that thing away." Starsky elbowed his way past Hutch. "Gives me the creeps. What d'ya say we get out of here? Maybe go to Huggy's for a beer?"

"Aw, c'mon. We've only got one more aisle." Hutch actually looked sincere when he said it, so Starsky shrugged and led the way to the last aisle. It was filled, floor to ceiling with leatherwear.

The first item Hutch picked up was a leather hood and poked his fingers through the eyeholes. "What's the point of this?"

Starsky was pulling a black leather vest from an overhead rack and barely glanced at the hood. "I don't know. Power? Danger, maybe? Here, try this on."

Hutch shrugged out of his jacket. Taking the vest from Starsky, he peeked at the price tag and whistled. "Almost eighty bucks. Partner, for that much money, it'll have to look better than good." He pulled the vest on over his plain green T-shirt and struck an exaggerated he-man pose.

Starsky squinted at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to see it without the t-shirt and jeans. Here," Starsky said, grabbing a pair of leather pants from the rack below the vests. "Hold these up."

"Geez…okay, wait a minute." Hutch turned around. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Open mind, Starsk? Remember?"

"Okay," Starsky replied, closing his eyes. He was more than curious but willing to play along.

After a minute or so of quiet rustling, Hutch said, "I'm ready. You can open 'em."

Starsky opened his eyes. Hutch had put on the hood, rolled up the sleeves of the T-shirt and zipped the leather vest all the way up to his neck. Standing with his hands on hips, holding the leather pants in place, only the skin on his arms was exposed.  Powerful, muscular arms. These arms would bring him pain.  Starsky thought about how Hutch's arms felt when they had held him countless times over the years, first as a friend and then as a lover.  Hutch's arms were strong but loving, nothing like those of the man before him. This man looked like…like….

"You look like an executioner," Starsky whispered, closing his eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Hutch asked from a million miles away. "You look scared to death."

Starsky shivered as Hutch's hand touched his cheek and opened his eyes just in time to see Hutch pull off the hood and toss it aside. His partner's golden crown of hair, now in disarray from the hood, put Starsky back on solid ground. He smiled. "'S better. You weren't you for a minute there. You looked…evil." 

Handing Starsky the leather pants, Hutch shrugged out of the vest. "That's the idea, don't you think? To create at least an illusion of evil or danger?" He put the vest on the hanger and handed that to Starsky, also.

"I don't know," Starsky answered honestly, catching Hutch by the arm and reaching up to smooth his lover's hair into place. "I don't think evil's what we're looking for, do you?"

"No, I don't want any evil. Had enough of that to last a lifetime," Hutch said, grabbing Starsky's hand and placing a kiss on his palm. "But, Starsky, what in the hell are we looking for?"

Hutch's voice was soft, sincere, as was his expression. This was the Hutch he'd fallen in love with--attentive, generous, loving. As Starsky looked into his lover's eyes and remembered the stubborn, resistant man who'd walked into the store with him, the last niggles of fear came rushing back. It surprised him; they'd been having so much fun he'd forgotten what had brought him there. He averted his eyes, unable to endure Hutch's compassionate gaze.

"Starsk? C'mon, it's me."

Certain he was about to choke, Starsky cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was only a hoarse, halting whisper. "I don't know what I'm looking for." He shrugged and looked up at the ceiling as if the answer might be there. "I guess I thought we'd find something to kind of…you know, spice things up…you know, to kind of break the pattern…." 

"What pattern? Do you think just because we--I screwed up once--"

"No, not that." Starsky spoke quickly, then fell silent again.  Now that he'd started talking about it, he wasn't sure how to continue.  Only the firm grip, Hutch had on his hand kept him from bolting entirely.  It was that grip, warm and secure, that finally prompted him to go on. "I don't know if this'll make any sense…" He shrugged again and pretended to study the sleeve of a leather jacket.

Hutch's grip grew stronger as he leaned forward and whispered in Starsky's ear, "Hate to tell you, but it wouldn't be the first time."

Starsky's head snapped up and he turned to look into Hutch's smiling eyes. With a lift of his eyebrows and nod of his head, Hutch prodded him to finish.

"Not counting Vanessa, what's the longest relationship you've ever had?"

Hutch thought it over. "Uh, I don't know…six months, I guess. Why?"

Starsky snorted softly and turned to study the jackets again. "Well, if you lasted more than a few months, you lasted longer with someone than I ever have."

"What's this about, Starsky? What are you getting at?"

"Face it, Hutch, neither one of us is very good at sticking it out for the long haul." Starsky toyed with the collar of a jacket.  A long moment passed before he heard Hutch move away. He turned, fearing Hutch was leaving, but Hutch only walked a few feet down the aisle before turning back and making a beeline directly for him.

"You are such an idiot," Hutch fumed. "Do you mean to tell me that I'm spending a perfectly good afternoon off work in a porn shop because you think we're--that I--you're--Shit! Starsky you can be so dense sometimes." He turned and paced down the aisle.  "All this," he waved at the shelves surrounding him, "because of one little--"

"But that's how it starts, Hutch--"

"What starts?"

Starsky shrugged. "You know how it is. You're going along thinking things are okay, and then your attention starts drifting and you're starting to notice other wom-- uh, people, and then before you know it, you're calling off dates and making excuses, and then…." His voice trailed away as it became apparent that Hutch was laughing too hard to hear him. "Mind telling me what's so funny?"

"You." Still snickering, Hutch closed the distance between them and pulled Starsky into his arms. "You're what's so funny."

Wondering why being laughed at was making him feel so good, Starsky feigned a step back, putting just enough effort into it to cause Hutch's arms to tighten around him. "Shut up," he muttered.

Hutch chuckled one more time and pulled away. "Okay, I'll shut up. But only after I say one more thing." He reached out to straighten Starsky's collar. "Are you listening?"

Lost in the sensation of Hutch's thumb caressing the skin beneath his collar, Starsky could only nod.

"We," Hutch waggled his finger between them, "are not done yet. We're not going to be done for a very long time.  If we're together for the next fifty years, it won't be nearly long enough. Forever wouldn't be enough, got that?"

Starsky nodded.

"Here's something else we need to get straight…" Hutch paused, drawing his fingertips across the mustache he'd given up a year ago, and looking at Starsky closely.  "You were right about the TV; I changed the channel." His eyes dared a retort, but Starsky used the little willpower he possessed to hold it back.  He simply nodded again and waited.  "I'm sorry, Starsk. It was thoughtless and stupid, but I didn't do it to hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know that, and I know that you're not the only one to blame. I'm just as guilty." Starsky wrapped his arm around Hutch's waist. "So whaddya think? We should be able to find something to punish ourselves with around here."

Hutch shook his head. "Anyone with enough imagination to turn a single error in judgment into the collapse of a lifetime relationship can surely come up with something exciting for us to do in the bedroom."

His face tinged pink, Starsky grinned. "I might be able to come up with something."

The jangling metal sign in the front door signaled Rae's return. The lovers looked at each other, smiled, and slowly made their way toward the front of the store. 

Starsky stood in the street outside Larry's Love Dungeon and waited for Hutch to join him. He had been surprised when, after talking to Rae for a few minutes, Hutch had returned to the back of the store, telling Starsky, "I'll meet you at the car."

Now, leaning against the Torino and waiting, Starsky thought about their unusual excursion and wondered what his crazy partner was up to. The now-familiar jangle of the door sign told him he wouldn't have long to wait. Hutch was walking in his direction holding a paper bag, and Starsky was suddenly nervous about what might be in store for him.

"Here," Hutch tossed the package to Starsky and opened the passenger door. "Don't say I never gave you anything," he said, sliding into his seat.

Starsky started to look in the bag, but then thought it would be wiser to get in the car first. Once there, he peeked into the sack and smiled.  "Ah, this is nice." He pulled out a jar of Kama Sutra Vanilla-Scented Massage Cream and opened it for a sniff. "Mmm, smells good." He held the container out to Hutch, who waved it away.

"I checked it out in the store. I figured we ought to buy something, considering that we took up so much of Rae's time."

Sniffing again before closing the jar, Starsky leaned back in his seat. "Leave it to you to go to a porn shop and come out with something therapeutic." Starsky put the jar back in the bag and tucked it into the seat next to him. "Now, what do you want to do for the rest of the day? We still got half the--"

Before he knew what was happening, Starsky found himself pinned to his seat with one of Hutch's arms braced against the door and the other on the seat beside his head. He opened his mouth to protest, but Hutch didn't give him a chance. Pressing his bulk almost on top of Starsky, Hutch seized his mouth in a numbing kiss. Starsky shuddered as Hutch grabbed a fistful of curls and held his head in place while his tongue slid over his captive's lips. Over and over, Hutch stroked and petted Starsky's tongue with his own until, just when Starsky thought he might pass out, explode, or both, Hutch drew back.

"Got a clue as to what I want to do for the rest of the day?" Hutch growled into Starsky's mouth. Not waiting for his stunned lover to respond, Hutch once again captured Starsky's lips, his jaw working with an intensity that caused Starsky to shift in his seat, seeking relief for an increasingly painful erection. Hutch felt the movement and brought his hand from the door to pin Starsky's hip down. Starsky's desire surged. He was on fire, torn between the longing that pulsed through his body and a nagging stray thought that he should stop this kiss.

Hutch's elbow hit the steering wheel as he slid his hand off Starsky's hip and down his thigh. The noise failed to slow him down, but it brought Starsky's stray thought screaming to the forefront. He remembered where they were.  After a brief struggle, he managed to push Hutch away.

"Hutch, we're on the street, for God's sake," Starsky panted.

Hutch drew his tongue along Starsky's jaw. "Thought that's what you wanted, Danger Boy. In fact, wasn't that you offering to blow me out here--"

"I was bluffing," Starsky yelped, tilting his chin to his shoulder to block Hutch's access to this throat. Big mistake. Hutch stuck his tongue in Starsky's ear instead, and Starsky's resolve was broken.

As Hutch kissed his way back along Starsky's jaw to take his mouth again, Starsky realized that the excitement coursing through his body wasn't only from the sensations caused by Hutch's mouth, but also from the knowledge that Hutch was risking everything to show him he was loved.  If they were caught…slowly, but steadily, Starsky brought his hand up to Hutch's jaw and pushed him away.

"Enough, I get your point."

Laughing, Hutch backed away a few inches and draped his arm across the steering wheel. "What? That you're beautiful?"

Starsky had no answer for that and couldn't have spoken if he had. Instead, he watched as Hutch finally thought to look around at the deserted street.

"Guess I got carried away, huh?" Hutch brushed damp strands of hair off his face.

"Thanks for coming here today, Hutch," Starsky blurted out. "I can't believe you did it for me. I mean, considering you didn't even--" Starsky's jaw was clamped shut in Hutch's grasp.

"You don't get it, do you?" Hutch eased his grip but kept his hand in place. " I would go anywhere with you…do anything for you." His thumb dropped to trace Starsky's lower lip. "I love you. If it takes making out with you on a public street or trying every gadget and gizmo in that store to prove it to you, I'll do it." His thumb dropped down to caress Starsky's throat. "Don't you see? You don't need any of that stuff in there; I' m completely powerless to you already."

Hutch's words surprised Starsky and when he looked up, Starsky realized they had surprised Hutch as well. Neither man spoke as the truth in the moment resonated around them. Finally, a slow smile inched across Hutch's face. "But you knew that already."

Starsky thought about it for only a few seconds before he smiled and nodded.

Hutch leaned in for another kiss and this time, Starsky reached up to wrap a hand around his neck, refusing to let go even when Hutch pulled away.

"I think we'll come here on all our days off," Starsky said.

Hutch laughed. "No, I think I'll plan our next little excursion."

Starsky raised his eyebrows. "What are we gonna do?" He traced the lines of Hutch's jaw with his fingertips.

After thinking a minute, Hutch said, "I think we'll drive up the coast to Simon's Point."

"Simon's Point? That's the most deserted beach there is; why would we go--. Oh, never mind, I get it." Starsky sat up a little straighter. "What are we gonna do once we get there?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hutch said as he trailed his fingers along Starsky's arm down to his hand. It always amazed Starsky that someone with such strength could have such a delicate touch.  "I thought we'd walk along the beach for a while," Hutch twined their fingers together, "like this."

Starsky was there already, feeling Hutch's strong hand in his as they strolled along the beach. "What else?"

"Well, we might take a blanket and stretch out near some rocks."

"Behind some rocks?"

"Okay, behind some rocks." Hutch dipped his head and nuzzled Starsky's neck. "I'll wear my muscle shirt."

Starsky lifted his chin. "I'll wear my fur. It goes good with alberjean."

Hutch's lips hovered over his. "You go good with alberjean," he whispered into Starsky's mouth.

"I go good with anything," Starsky whispered back.

"But you go best with me." Hutch placed a last kiss on Starsky's lips, then shifted back over into his own seat. Reaching up to pull his sunglasses from above the visor, he turned to Starsky and smiled.  "Speaking of going…." 

Starsky tried to straighten from his sprawled position but groaned with the effort. "We're gonna have to wait a minute; I can't move, much less drive." 

The devilish look Hutch gave him as he slid his sunglasses on was all the thrill Starsky had been looking for, and he wondered why he'd ever thought of looking for it anywhere but home.

* * * *

Inside Larry's Love Dungeon, Rae waited until she heard the Torino pull away before dragging her counter stool across the front of the store to the opposite corner. Locking the door, she climbed on top of the stool and opened a panel in the wall next to the inconspicuous security camera. The VCR hidden inside was only two hours into its cycle, but Rae stopped it anyway. Pushing the rewind button, she considered the implications of Starsky and Hutch visiting her store. Rumors had circulated about them for years, but she'd never given them much thought.

The VCR tape spun to a stop and although she was curious, Rae resisted the temptation to look. She firmly pressed the button to record and closed the panel.  There was no need to risk the wrong people knowing who visited her store today or what they did while they were there.

Climbing down and then dragging the counter stool back into place, she thought about her visitors again. It had been so easy to figure out the truth, really. There had been something in their embarrassment in chatting with her when they had first arrived and something else in the way they had been looking at each other when she returned to the store that had given them away.

And then, of course, there had been Hutch's purchases. The massage cream hadn't meant anything in particular, but Hutch's second purchase was positive proof in Rae's eyes. He'd had her wrap the small, slim torpedo-shaped vibrator separately, and then he had tucked into his inside jacket pocket. Nothing unusual about that and she might not have suspected anything had it not been for the color.

Red.

Candy apple red.

*End*

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