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FIC: April Showers, or Five times Hutch listened to Starsky

Which is why Hutch is on Starsky’s couch, and almost asleep, when he hears the sigh of a girl’s voice, sweet and seductive, interspersed with the murmur of Starsky’s, warm and familiar.

[ Starsky/Hutch, 3293 words, rated E, No Archive Warnings Apply. ]

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They didn’t plan for it, that’s for sure. It’s just that Hutch’s girl split because she has to get up early, and Starsky’s date - Lindy, Cindy... could be Mindy - stumbles over the swell of Starsky’s apartment with them. They have another few drinks each and by then it’s more than late, and no one feels like waiting for a taxi, so sleeping arrangements need to be made: Hutch gets the blanket he’s used before from the closet, and Starsky bumps shoulders with him while fetching possibly Amanda one of his shirts to wear to bed.

Which is why Hutch is on Starsky’s couch, and almost asleep, when he hears the sigh of a girl’s voice, sweet and seductive, interspersed with the murmur of Starsky’s, warm and familiar. He realizes what’s happening when there’s a hastily and badly quieted giggle - the girl, not Starsky - and at first he just rolls over, facing the back of the couch, and tries to sink back into that half sleep he’d already reached.

Then the sounds take on a rhythm. The shelf that divides the sleeping area from the rest of the room holds absolutely nothing back. Starsky isn’t quite groaning but his breathing is deep enough that it’s getting there, and this girl sounds like she’s a screamer making an honest attempt at being considerate, and even if they’d both been better at hiding their pleasure the bedsprings tell on them. They bounce and bounce and bounce and Hutch is hard enough suddenly enough that his hand is on his dick before he can really consider what he’s doing.

continue reading on ao3 --->

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FIC: Because you’re mine (I walk the line)

This is why Hutch is the best partner a man could ever wish for: he understands all of that. He indulges Starsky. He spreads his legs and he opens his mouth and he moans. He lets Starsky crush him with his weight, which Starsky does, just to feel that soft-skinned heat and the hardness that pokes his hip.

[ Starsky/Hutch, 1185 words, rated E, No Archive Warnings Apply. ]

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Sometimes you just really have to run your hands over your partner’s torso to make sure he’s still breathing. Sometimes you have to yank his body into yours and cling to him and feel his erratic heartbeat against your own as you pant into each other’s neck. And then sometimes even that’s not enough, and you have to take him back to your place and strip him naked and feel his overheated skin under your lips.

This is where Starsky finds himself: in his bed, with Hutch’s naked body between him and the mattress. The Torino is parked crookedly downstairs, there is a trail of clothes that started the second they fell through the door, and half the buttons that should be on Starsky’s shirt are scattered around the room from Hutch working three fingers into a gap and ripping it open, somewhere in between Starsky telling him “up, up” and peeling off Hutch’s sweater, and Starsky falling to his knees at the edge of the bed to get Hutch’s goddamn pants to let go.

“Starsky,” Hutch says, and his arm is around Starsky’s neck and they’re breathing the same air and Starsky has to kiss him again. It’s Hutch – it’s life or death.

continue reading on ao3 --->

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HELLO THERE. I saw your tags and did a 1555-word thing and it’s on ao3 now:

On the receiving end, or, Probably not what Mr. Bell envisioned

Do you have an ao3 account? If you do, I’ll officially gift it to you over there, if you want. 🎁

Steve is lying on his bed when his phone rings. He answers slowly, breathily, trying to form full sentences as Danny presses hot open-mouthed kisses down this abs