One Hundred Mile Limit

by LilyK

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Hutch closed the door and flipped the lock. Tense from the long drive, it was with a huge sigh of relief that he leaned back against the old wood and allowed himself to finally breathe. He'd made it -- one hundred miles from Bay City. Actually, one hundred and seven. Point three. He was well outside the hundred mile limit he'd set for himself. Now he could think about what he wanted. What he dreamed about. What he desired. He could think about Starsky.

It was safe here. Safe to think about his partner. Safe because Starsky was a hundred miles away. He'd never know what Hutch was doing here. What he'd been doing here, in this same cabin in the San Bernardino Mountains, on every one of his last six free days. Six days in eight weeks. Not a lot, but still, each one was precious to him. Shut away, far from Bay City, he could do what he liked. And what he liked was twenty-four hours to wallow in his dreams. Dreams of Starsky.

If only his real life could be like his dreams.

But dreams were just that -- dreams. Fantasies. Wishes. Desires. In his duties, in his real life, he needed to be smart and alert and careful. He needed to watch his partner's back. So he stuffed all his dreams deep down in a safe place until it was all right to bring them out and revel in their beauty. And this is where he'd given himself permission to do so.

Twenty-four hours all to himself, with thoughts of Starsky taking over his every waking breath as his goal. And his release.

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He had his routine down to a science now. Stow the groceries for later, take a shower, go to bed.

Go to bed, thank God. He moved with assurance, knowing that once he'd given himself permission to go ahead, that his body would respond instantly.

Now that he was outside his one hundred mile limit, he could let his emotions, his feelings, his thoughts run free. Beside the bed, his fingers moved with confidence, unbuttoning, unzipping, removing clothing and shoes until he was naked. He was pleased that his hands didn't shake from the anticipation. Not even once. The room was cool, but reasonably so. Besides, he would be very warm very soon. Very soon.

A quick shower, and he was back to the bed, slipping between clean sheets, already half hard. Letting his thoughts go where they will, knowing full well exactly what he'd see.

Starsky, on that day. Still so clear in his mind. An indelible vision imprinted on his brain.

That day. That scene. That man.

Eight weeks ago, an innocent mistake had set his feet on this path. In Starsky's apartment, after letting himself in with his own key. After Gunther, it was no big deal. He'd been doing it for months now. Pizza and beer plopped on the table, he had yelled out that dinner was served. He'd received no response so he went to make sure. Maybe Starsk was sick or hurt or worse...

Starsky had been back to work for months, but Hutch still worried even though he knew it bugged his partner, who hated how weak he'd been after his release from the hospital. He'd worked hard to get back into shape, and back on the job. He was in better condition now than he'd been three or four years ago. Now that he was back to full steam, Starsky moaned and groaned when Hutch hovered, so he tried to -- unhover. To unhover? Unhovering? He snickered at his made-up word and had walked down the short hallway.

As it was, he'd brought pizza and if Starsky were sick, he would have to think of something else to prepare to help quiet his partner's belly. Starsky was still pissed off that one of the residual effects of Gunther's bullets was that sometimes Starsky's stomach didn't cooperate. The wrong food or drink, and he was in agony until things were back in working condition. Hutch knew how much his partner missed those double jalapeño burritos and chili dogs.

He couldn't help himself. He had to be sure Starsky was okay. Quietly, so he didn't arouse his partner's ire at being checked up on, he had peeked into the bathroom.

Oh, God...

Starsky wasn't sick or hurt or worse. Not by a long shot. Rather, he was leaning back against the bathroom counter, jeans unzipped, thick cock in hand. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back. Hutch couldn't have pulled his eyes away even if he'd wanted.

Starsky was so beautiful! The white t-shirt had been rucked up, exposing a flat belly and defined chest. Starsky had worked so hard to achieve that body. Hours in the gym after dying in the hospital...

Hutch had licked his own lips and watched as Starsky's hips snapped forward as his hand stroked. His lower lip clenched between white teeth, the rhythm escalated.

Hutch jammed his hand into his mouth to keep his own moans at bay. Another sharp thrust and a deep groan from Starsky, and Hutch's own cock had pushed against his suddenly too-tight cords.

He had ached to rush into the room. To fall to his knees. To take that cock into his hand and into his mouth. His palm rubbed against the front of his pants. Cock throbbing, his gaze had remained glued on Starsky.

Starsky's hand had moved faster, and he let out a series of the most arousing little pants and grunts. Hutch thought he would scream. A drop of sweat on Starsky caught Hutch's gaze. It slipped down the firm chest and wound its way through the forest of hair, a glistening, meandering gem.

Biting down on his fingers, Hutch had closed his eyes, listening. Every nerve on edge. When Starsky fell silent, Hutch's eyes flew open and he had known that Starsky was close. Somehow, he knew. But he also knew he couldn't stay. Couldn't see it. Couldn't hear it. If Starsky whispered a name when he came, Hutch didn't want to know. He couldn't handle it right now, if Starsky whispered Michelle or Gina or Amber or any one of the numerous women he'd dated lately. The only name he wanted to hear from those lips was his own.

But he was a fool, wasn't he? He had bolted as quietly as possible, and in his car, he pressed his head to the steering wheel. His cock ached and so did his heart. He wanted to touch himself. To come with visions of Starsky dancing in his head.

No. No, not here. Not so close. Not when Starsky was a hundred feet away. He needed a hundred damned miles! And so he had run.

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Hutch moaned deeply as he came. "Starsky!"

It took a few moments for the knocking on the cabin's door to register to his orgasm-fogged brain. He tried to ignore the incessant pounding, but finally, he took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then yelled out, "Just a minute!"

"Don't bother gettin' pretty on my account!"

Hutch's eyes narrowed. He grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around himself. Yanking open the door, he growled, "Starsk?"

"Greetings!"

"What the hell?"

"You gonna invite me in?"

"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

"Came to check on you. You okay?"

With a shake of his head, Hutch turned away, leaving the door open. He ignored his partner and went to the fridge to grab a beer. He snapped off the cap and tossed it into the sink before he tilted back his head and almost drained the bottle.

"Got one of those for me?"

Hutch licked his lips. "No."

"I take it you're not happy to see me?"

"I came up here for peace and quiet, Starsk."

"I know, but..." Starsky moved closer. "Something's wrong. Lately, something's been buggin' you."

Hutch's head turned from left to right.

"You looking for an escape route?" Starsky asked.

Hutch gave him what he hoped was an irritated glare.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice! I was worried, okay?"

"So you've seen I'm okay. Go home."

"You're joking."

Hutch sighed. "Starsk..."

"You're serious. You're kickin' me out."

Hutch clutched the blanket tighter and looked down at his toes.

"Fine."

"Starsky, wait."

"Nope. Not staying where I'm not wanted. See you on Monday." Starsky walked out the door. "If you don't mind me riding with you, that is," he added before he pulled it shut behind him.

"Starsky!" Hutch called, yanking the door open. "Starsk!" At first, Hutch didn't think Starsky was going to stop, but finally he paused and slowly turned around.

"Yeah?"

Hutch could hear the hurt in Starsky's tone in that one questioning word. Of course, he could see the hurt clearly on his friend's face, and it made him wince. "Don't go."

Starsky stayed rooted to his spot. "Why not? You said..." He shrugged.

"I know. I'm sorry. Listen... come back inside and we'll talk."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Please."

Starsky came back inside, albeit somewhat slowly. Hutch waited patiently until he was in before he waved a hand.

"Have a seat. Beer?"

"Nah. Not if I have to drive back down tonight."

"Listen..." Hutch repeated. "I'm not sure where to start."

"At the beginning usually works best."

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Easier said than done."

"Am I that hard to talk to? I figured after all these years together, we'd pretty much said it all at one time or another."

"Not this," Hutch muttered.

"Huh?"

"None of this," Hutch waved a hand to encompass the room, "is your fault."

"Didn't say it was."

Hutch had to smile. "No, you didn't."

"Why don't you just spit it out? You want to split up?"

"What? No! Just the opposite!"

Starsky looked puzzled. "You want to -- stay together. Okay. But why are you here?"

"Because... I saw you... Then it hit me... And I didn't want to hurt you..." Hutch's hands clenched around the blanket and he considered throwing it up over his head so he could hide.

Starsky finally smiled. "Thank you for that detailed explanation, Teach. You could give classes at UCLA with that kind of instructive dialogue. Now why don't you explain it to me in little words, so's I can understand."

"Starsky, you're not stupid, you know. It's me. I can't... I'm not sure..."

"Hutch," Starsky said softly, moving closer, "there's nothin' you can't tell me. Don't you know that by now? Heck, when I was down and out, you did everything for me. I have no secrets. You know 'em all." Starsky smiled. "So tell me what has you running a hundred miles from home to shut yourself away in this ratty cabin dressed in nothing but an old blanket." He waggled an eyebrow and eyed Hutch speculatively.

And if Hutch had to add another word to the mix, he'd have added 'appreciatively'. But he admitted to himself that lately, he'd really wanted Starsky's -- appreciation, so he was probably just seeing things. He laughed softly.

"What?" Starsky asked, grinning in response to Hutch's smile.

Clearing his throat, Hutch let his breath out in a rush. "I'm not sure I know how to say this."

"You're repeating yourself, dummy. Now talk!"

"Promise you won't go ballistic. Or hate me."

Starsky stared for a long moment before he said, "You're really nervous about this."

"Yeah, I am."

"Then I'm not being as good a friend as I always thought I was. If you're scared to talk to me..." Starsky shrugged, moving away. "Maybe I should head out."

"No. Please, Starsk."

They looked at each other for a second before Starsky nodded. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

Hutch mulled over one phrase, then another. He considered and rejected several opening lines. Starsky fidgeted while he thought about just the right words that wouldn't sound too stupid yet conveyed his feelings. After five minutes, during which Starsky exhibited an inordinate amount of patience, which for Starsky was amazing, Hutch finally looked down at his toes and blurted out, "I saw you jerking off."

"Oh. Okay. Is that all?"

"What do you mean 'is that all'?"

"I thought somethin' awful was going down. You know, you were dying from another strange plague or you wanted to find a new partner. Something bad you were scared to tell me about."

"Excuse me?"

"Watching me jerk off ain't a bad thing, Blondie. If that's your thing."

"I- I'm surprised."

"At what? That I like the idea? Or that you do?"

"Ah, both."

Starsky fell silent before he said curiously, "I'll bet you didn't wait for the grand finale."

"Why would you say that?" Hutch asked suspiciously.

"Because you wouldn't have had to run clear up here if you'd heard."

"What?"

"Got a surprise for you." Starsky put his hands on Hutch's shoulders. He leaned in and whispered, "I happen to like the idea. You watching me. Kind of kinky, but -- the idea makes me hot. Hot 'n bothered, if you really want to know."

"Starsky?" Hutch was sure he was looking at his friend with wide-eyed amazement.

The grin that Starsky had plastered on his face made Hutch blush. It was downright lecherous. "What? You sure ain't a virgin. Neither am I. Why not? You embarrassed, Hutch? You don't like that I want you to look at me? That I might want to look at you?"

Hutch swallowed hard and dropped his head again, trying to get his emotions under control and to get his brain back in working order after what Starsky had just revealed. He liked the idea of Hutch watching him jerk off!

"Look at me, Hutch."

When Hutch raised his head, he was greeted with two blue eyes that were conveying something he never expected to see: passion. Pure, unadulterated passion. He shivered.

"What did you see, Hutch?" Starsky's voice said, low and seductive. "Did you see me undress? Unbutton my shirt?" Starsky shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it aside. He unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. "What did you see?"

"You. I saw you."

"Tell me."

"You were -- Oh, God. You had on a white undershirt."

"Like this?" Starsky removed his shirt and it followed the jacket.

"Then what?"

"Your jeans. They were unzipped."

"How's this?"

"God, Starsk. You're not wearing shorts."

"No clean laundry." Starsky smiled, moving his feet apart into a better stance and pushing his hips forward. "What else?"

"You-" Hutch swallowed hard, his own cock filling as his gaze latched onto the thatch of hair peeking from the triangle opened by the zipper on Starsky's jeans.

"Was I touching myself, Hutch? Like this?" Starsky reached in and gingerly drew out his cock.

Hutch wondered how he managed to get something that -- impressive out of those tight jeans. Starsky's voice dragged his wayward thoughts back to attention.

"Was I hard?"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah." Hutch's gaze found Starsky's. "You looked so damned sexy with your eyes closed and your shirt pushed up. I could see your nipples. They were hard as you touched yourself."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's all good." Starsky threw back his head and pushed the t-shirt up, exposing his chest while his hand moved slowly down his length.

"Starsk," Hutch rasped. Starsky was as beautiful as he remembered. Even more so this close.

"Go on, Hutch. Tell me. What else did you see?"

"You made these little sounds. Oh, yeah. Like that. And after a few minutes..."

"After a few minutes, you ran out."

"Yeah," Hutch admitted. He could feel the blush rush up his face. He didn't know if it was from admitting he was a coward or admitting he'd watched.

"What did it make you want to do, Hutch?" Starsky asked, moaning softly as he continued his stroking. "What did watchin' me make you want?"

"I wanted to see you come. I wanted you to-"

Starsky let out a shudder. "Wanted me to what, Hutch? Tell me what you want. Watch me and tell me."

"Starsky..." Hutch closed his eyes and swayed. "God damn it." His throat closed and his eyes prickled. Shit! Was he going to lose it?

"Hutch, look at me." Starsky waited a moment, his hand still on his cock, until Hutch complied. When their gazes met, Starsky gave him a shaky smile and his hand moved again. Up and down. Up and down. Hutch was mesmerized.

Starsky's tongue flicked out and he licked his lips. Hutch's gaze drank in the panting man.

"You are so beautiful." Had he actually said that? Hutch moaned softly.

"Thanks, Blondie. You ain't so bad yourself." Starsky's gaze latched on Hutch's cock, which was jutting out from the folds of the blanket. "Pretty nice, partner," he added with a grin before his face turned serious. "You- you didn't stay, Hutch. You should've stayed for the grand fin- Oh, God. Hutch, you didn't have to run. You could've stayed. Seen the -- end result. You left too soon, you know. You missed the final act. You missed what I always say when I come."

Hutch ached to reach out and touch Starsky. To wrap his hand around the dripping cock. To stroke it and to have the hot liquid touch his skin. To bring his hand up to his own mouth; to taste the essence of his partner. He blinked dazedly as he took the final step forward. The step that brought him close enough to stretch out his hand.

"Go on. Do it, Hutch. Do it."

Hutch moaned deeply when his hand wrapped around the firm flesh. "What..." he said huskily. "What do you always say?"

"Finish it and I'll tell you. Geez, Hutch, finish it!"

Hutch couldn't help but grin at his demanding lover. He jacked the thick cock one, twice, a third time...

"Oh, God! Hutch!" Starsky let out a strangled cry and in seconds, come was coating Hutch's hand. "Hutch!" he cried again, wildly pumping into Hutch's fist before he finally lurched forward.

Hutch's arms caught him and pulled him close. He buried his nose in the dark curls and tried to breathe. While Starsky caught his breath, Hutch raised a hand to his lips and licked. Starsky tasted as good as Hutch knew he would.

"That's what you missed, babe," Starsky rasped out between panting breaths.

"You said my name," Hutch said incredulously. The dark head nodded.

"You're one smart guy, Hutchinson. Sometimes, anyway." Starsky raised his head and grinned. "Other times, you're as dumb as a box of rocks. Don't you know by now that you don't need any of your dumb limits with me?"

With a shaky breath, Hutch nodded.

"Good," Starsky said, reaching up to tap the end of Hutch's nose with a fingertip. "Besides, it'll save on hotel rooms and gas for that heap of yours. Now how about we move this along and you give me a smooch. After that, if you're a good boy, I can see what you say when you come. Deal?"

Hutch knew that the grin on his face was probably as goofy as they came, but he didn't care. He was so damned happy! He didn't need a hundred mile limit any longer. Even a few inches from Starsky was too far away. Leaning in, just before his lips covered Starsky's, he whispered, "Deal."

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The next day, it was well after noon when Hutch woke. He lay very still, astonished that he was sharing a bed with Starsky. He sniffed. Definitely sharing a bed with Starsky. He briefly wondered if he smelled as awful as his lover. Probably. He was covered with dried sweat and come and cracker crumbs. He reached up and rubbed his belly. Was that peanut butter?

Hutch smiled to himself before he suddenly considered that maybe Starsky would have second thoughts in the clear light of day. After all, what did he have to offer his partner? He was fast approaching middle age. Was he good enough-

"There you go, thinkin' again."

Hutch's eyes flew open. "What?"

"I could hear the gears grinding all the way over here." Starsky rolled to his stomach and moved closer, propping himself up on his elbows. "Good morning."

"Morning."

Starsky leaned in and kissed Hutch lightly. "Did I remember to tell you somethin' else that I always say when I come?"

"I don't know. You hardly shut up for the first two hours. The next two, your mouth was busy -- elsewhere. Then you finally collapsed and were quiet. Why don't you tell me now?"

Starsky eyed him intently. "Guess I'm not getting any sweet nothings from you."

"You want sweet nothings?"

"Babe, I want it all. And I want it with you."

Hutch stared into Starsky's eyes for a long moment. He studied the face that he loved more than anything. Seeing what he felt reflected on his partner's face, he smiled. "Me, too," he said, embarrassed again at the level of need he felt for this man.

"Do you want to hear this or not?" Starsky demanded, poking a finger into Hutch's chest.

Rolling his eyes, Hutch growled, "So tell me already!"

Starsky gave a devilish grin. "Hey," he said looking around, "this place really ain't so ratty." He turned back to look directly at Hutch and said, "I love you, partner."

Hutch was sure he was going to cry. "Back at you. Partner," he said before he pulled Starsky close and kissed him.

The End