The White Devil

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As in this world there are degrees of evil: So in this world there are degrees of devils.

John Webster, The White Devil

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'Hutchinson!'

Hutch ignored the peremptory challenge, and stalked on, toward the Torino, and Starsky.

'Hutchinson! I want to speak to you.'

'If you want to speak to me, Detective Perkins, you can make an appointment.'

'Make an appointment? To speak to you? Who the hell do you think you are?'

'Who do I think I am? I know who I am. Lieutenant Hutchinson, and your superior officer. Never forget it again, is that clear?'

'Yes, Sir! I'm sorry, Sir. May I be allowed to speak, Sir?'

'I'm busy, Perkins,' said Hutch. 'Make an appointment.'

Perkins grabbed his arm, as he turned to go. The door of the Torino exploded outwards. Starsky flew out of the car, like a cannonball from the mouth of a canon.

'Let go my partner,' he demanded. 'Keep your hands off him, or I'll cut them off.'

'Starsky? You're David Starsky, right?' asked Perkins. 'You're not his partner any longer, Starsky. You retired. You're not even a cop these days. Stay out of this.'

'Like Hell I will,' answered Starsky. 'He's still my partner, whether I'm a cop or not, and he always will be. What'd'ya want with him?'

'It's none of your business,' said Perkins.

'Then make an appointment,' said Hutch, and turned to leave, once more.

'Okay, fine,' said Perkins. 'I want to know why you've been asking questions about me. You with IA now, or something? Am I under investigation?'

'No, not at all,' said Hutch. 'I was interested in why you didn't come forward with information for my task force earlier, that was all. It's nothing important, as you said. I asked a few questions, and now, I'm satisfied.'

'Good,' said Perkins. 'My integrity is not in question.'

'Certainly not,' Hutch admitted.

'Then you can quit with the questions, or I'll start asking questions about you. For example, I might ask why you and Starsky live together.'

'Everyone knows we live together,' said Hutch. 'What's the problem?'

'It's funny, isn't it? Two guys, your age? People used to wonder about you, years ago. Always hanging on each other. Holding hands. Now, you live together. Smells funny, I think.'

'You think, do you?' asked Hutch. 'In that case, think what you like. C'mon, Starsk. I wanna pick up my dry cleaning before they close.'

'Oh, I already did that,' said Starsky. 'It's in the car.'

'Jeez!' said Perkins. 'You guys married, or what?'

'Nah,' said Starsky. 'Just engaged.'

They got into the Torino, and Starsky drove away. Hutch could see Perkins watching them drive off. His face was unreadable.

'So, his integrity ain't in question, Hutch?' asked Starsky.

'Nope. Not in question at all. It's beyond being in question. It's completely non-existent,' said Hutch.

'Good,' said Starsky. 'That makes things simpler.'

'It does?' asked Hutch. 'What things?'

'Never mind. I made lasagne for dinner. I did the laundry. I bought you some new socks.'

'You have to quit with all this domestic stuff,' was Hutch's sage opinion. 'You're not my wife.'

'No,' Starsky replied. 'I'm your partner.'

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'Is the lasagne good?'

'It's great, Starsk,'

'I like lasagne. The noodles are long and thick.'

Hutch choked.

'Here. Have some water. You okay, Hutch?'

'I'm fine,' said Hutch. 'You, on the other hand....'

'What's wrong with me?' asked Starsky.

'Nothing. Nothing's wrong with you. You're incorrigible, that's all.'

'I'm glad of that. Wouldn't want to be corrigible. Imagine being corriged. Wait! That sounds interesting, now I think of it. How would you corrige me, Hutch?'

'I have no idea,' said Hutch. 'You're too tough and masculine. Can't imagine you sweet and submissive. But, think of something, and I'll try it out.'

'I'll do that. Finish your lasagne. We got desert.'

'Mmhm?'

'Mmhm. And stop with the worried frown. You're gonna get wrinkles that way. See, I have my own job, and I make nice money. I have more free time than you. What's wrong with using it to pick up your dry cleaning, huh?'

'Nothing's wrong with it. I'd do it for you. I guess I just feel like... I don't know. Like what Perkins said. Like we're married, and you're my wife.'

'And that's degrading for a man? Would you feel degraded, picking up my dry cleaning?'

'Of course not!'

'But you think I'm degraded by picking up yours?'

'Starsky... you know, arguing with you is a waste of time.'

'But you like it anyway? Right?'

'Right. These noodles are long and thick.'

'Hutch! You're incorrigible.'

'You sure about that?'

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'Listen!' said Starsky.

In a nook
That opened south,
You and I
Lay mouth to mouth.

A snowy gull
And sooty daw
Came and looked
With many a caw.

'Such,' I said,
'Are I and you,
When you've kissed me
Black and blue.'

'I've never read that one before,' Hutch admitted.

'Aha!' said Starsky. 'I win. It's by John Millington Synge.'

'Oh, boy,' said Hutch.

'Come on, Hutch. I get to pick something.' Starsky dived for the book, that he'd hidden under the bed. Hutch thought about making a run for it, but a deal was a deal.

Starsky found the book, with a cry of triumph, and surfaced, his eyes gleaming. He sat cross-legged, the book in his lap. Hutch had a hard time, keeping his face straight. His adorable, naked lover, studying pictures of naked men, chuckling over this position or that. Starsky kept looking up at him, from under his long, dark lashes.

'How about this?' he asked, at last, showing Hutch one of the pictures. Correction, thought Hutch. Diagrams. The two men seemed to be in possession of six legs between them.

'Okay,' Hutch agreed.

'Well, you could at least act excited about the prospect,' said Starsky.

'I am excited,' said Hutch.

'Uh huh,' said Starsky. 'Never mind. I'll find something else.' He went back to the book, mumbling to himself.

'I'll do anything you want, Starsk. You know that.'

Starsky looked up. 'I know,' he said. 'How about kissing me black and blue? I'm teasin' you, Hutch, because I like to see you blush. You know that.' He threw the book under the bed again. 'I got all the ideas I need, right here,' he said. And he tapped his chest, over the heart. 'Lie back, and let me corrige you.'

'You like me submissive, and obedient?' Hutch asked.

'Sometimes,' said Starsky. 'I like you any way I can get you.' He straddled Hutch's lap, and sat for a moment, studying the body beneath him. 'There's so much of you,' he said. 'A feast of flesh and bone.'

'Are you calling me fat?' asked Hutch, with mock affront.

'Nah. I'm callin' you mine.'

Starsky lunged, and claimed Hutch's mouth with his own. Hutch fought back, valiantly, but after a long while, he surrendered. It was more fun that way, he thought.

Starsky sighed. He sat back on his heels, and looked down at Hutch, savouring his victory. 'I know what I want,' he said. He rolled off Hutch's body, and pushed his legs apart, then knelt between them. 'Put your legs up on my shoulders,' he instructed.
'Starsky! I'm almost upside down, like this,' Hutch complained, as he obeyed.

'Shh. Darlin'. I'm gonna worship you. And I want to watch your face while I do it.' Starsky bent his head a little, and took Hutch's cock in his mouth. He gripped Hutch's hips in his strong hands.

Hutch felt more vulnerable than he ever had felt in the act of sex. No one had ever done this to him. He had never let anyone do this to him. He never would let anyone else do this to him. He reached up and grabbed the bed's headboard, and hung on. Starsky's mouth was hot, and wet, and his tongue was rough as he licked the underside of Hutch's cock. He was indeed watching Hutch's face, and Hutch knew his face was flushed with excitement. He threw back his head, and moaned.

Starsky began to suck. Hutch let his body react, do whatever it wanted to do. The sweetness of Starsky's mouth, the hardness of Starsky's hands on his hips, the strangeness of his position -- all contributed to the excitement that he felt. He knew he was going to come soon, and tried to tell Starsky, but his mouth wouldn't work properly. All that came out was a strangled cry of joy.

Starsky lowered his legs back to the bed for him, and Hutch lay for a time, in a puddle of contentment. He could feel Starsky petting him, murmuring something about rest, and safety. Hutch gave in.

He woke some time later, alone. The lights were off in the bedroom, but there was some light coming from the living room. Hutch got up, and pulled on his robe.

Starsky was talking on the phone. 'Okay,' he said. 'Gotta go. See you tomorrow.' He hung up.

'You don't gotta go, Starsk,' said Hutch. 'You can talk to your friends with me here, can't you?'

Starsky frowned. 'Sure I can, Babe,' he said. 'We was finished talkin'. Just making small talk, you know. Hard to get rid of some people. Want some coffee? More desert?'

'No,' said Hutch. 'Just a cuddle. That okay?'

'That's okay,' said Starsky. He drew Hutch closer, and demonstrated. 'How's this?' he asked.

'The best,' said Hutch.

Starsky opened Hutch's robe, and looked inside.

'What are you checkin' for?' asked Hutch.

'Just lookin' to see if I kissed you black and blue,' said Starsky.

'If you didn't,' said Hutch. 'You can try again.'

*** The End ***

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