December 21st- All You Can Eat by Garrideb

Author’s Note: Beta’d by the incomparable Jen.

“You missed the turn to the buffet,” Starsky pointed out.  He was trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice, but it was hard.  He knew Hutch better than anyone, so he was wary.  It seemed that the only time Hutch missed turns was when they were driving to a location of Starsky’s choosing.

Like the buffet.

“You promised me we’d go,” Starsky reminded Hutch when his Blond Blintz — his other half, the love of his life — failed to turn around or, for that matter, react in any way.  “I haven’t had a meal since early this morning, and Huggy said this buffet is really good.  Hutch, you promised!”

Perhaps egged on by the whininess of Starsky’s voice, Hutch finally looked at him. “Buffets promote overeating.”

“Yeah, I know! That’s why I asked you to take me!”

Hutch rolled his eyes.  “I’ll make you something at my place, and then we can have sex.”

Heat pooled in Starsky’s groin at the casual mention.  Hutch could make sex — sex between them! —  sound so common and routine, and somehow that was hot.  They’d been lovers for a few months now, but it still felt so new.  Suddenly the idea of missing the buffet seemed a little less like a betrayal on the level of Brutus and Caesar. But Starsky wasn’t that easy.  “We could go to the buffet and then have sex.”

Hutch shook his head.  “You just said, in your own words…” Hutch paused and frowned, obviously mentally reviewing the conversation, “well, not said, but you implied, very clearly, that you planned to overindulge at the buffet. So by the time we get back to my place, you’ll be stuffed and sleepy and you won’t even fully enjoy the blowjob I give you.”

“Nuh-uh,” Starsky protested.  “Sleepy blowjobs are the best blowjobs.”

“It’s unhealthy to overeat,” Hutch replied, clearly unable to debate Starsky’s previous point and thus returning to the familiar ground of his health rants.

“It’s also unhealthy to break promises.”

“Is it?”

“It’s unhealthy for the moral fiber,” Starsky said, with conviction.

Again, Hutch completely ignored his airtight argument.  “Look, we can have sandwiches at my place — I’ve got some good deli meats, you’ll like them — and then you can overindulge on me.”

Fuck.  There was nothing particularly special about the three words overindulge on me, and yet they did something to Starsky, a flash flood of arousal that swept away his moral high ground.  “You’re saying you’ll be my buffet?”

“All you can eat.”  Hutch said it low with a cocky raised eyebrow, and it was all Starsky could do not to reach over and distract the driver.

But Starsky had to at least try to stay strong.  After all, didn’t he have full access to Hutch most nights, anyway?  Hutch was as horny a guy as any; Starsky was rarely left wanting.  If Hutch wanted to offer himself up as a replacement for the special, brand-new, not-an-everyday-occurrence of the buffet, he’d have to make tonight out of the ordinary, too.  It was only fair.

Starsky considered his options.  If he played this right, he could get Hutch to agree to any manner of special kink.  Should he tie Hutch up?  Use his handcuffs?  Starsky frowned; he liked it when Hutch pawed at him with his big hands, so he didn’t particularly want to restrain them.  Maybe they could play a game?  Hutch could pretend to be a spy.  Or a werewolf.  Or Starsky’s personal driver, who would drive him to an amazing buffet, where Starsky could eat whatever he wanted.

Starsky huffed in annoyance.  It wasn’t fair that Hutch was pulling this bait-and-switch.  Hutch was being mean, and sex just wasn’t going to make up for it.  “Your body isn’t an all-you-can-eat buffet.  It’s a two-course meal, at best.  One-course most nights.”

Hutch laughed.  “Starsk, that’s all you can handle.  We don’t stop on my account, we stop for you.”

“Not hardly! I go easy on you, ‘cause I figure that rabbit food you eat ain’t gonna hold up against the full force of my passion.  I haven’t forgotten that you need triple doses of vitamin E just to get it up, babe.”

Hutch’s humor was slipping away in the face of this attack against his virility.  Anger was rising up in those pale blue eyes, and it was making Starsky hotter.  “That was during a fast.  And it was Abby’s idea, to— to fortify our bodies just in case!  I’ll have you know that during those 48 hours we had no problems whatsoever.”  His eyes narrowed, glaring at the street ahead.  “You can’t seriously be implying that I’ve left you unsatisfied?”

“Unsatisfied?  No, I guess not.  But most nights our sex is dessert.  Tonight you’re sayin’ our sex will be a buffet.  I just don’t think you can handle my appetite.”

It was a perfect hit.  The glint in Hutch’s eyes was accentuated by the setting sun as they pulled up to Venice Place.  “Try me.”

“Okay, babe.  Tonight I ain’t holding back.  We can even skip the sandwiches and get straight to the main event.  But if you pass out on me, or call uncle because I’ve pushed you past your limits, you’ll be taking me to the buffet for dinner for an entire week.  Deal?”

“Deal.”

It took Hutch almost ten minutes to find parking near Venice Place.  Must have been a busy night for the French restaurant below Hutch’s apartment.  By the time Hutch finally got his car settled and turned off the engine, both of them were seething with quiet anticipation.  The walk to the door was restrained.  Starsky wondered if he should offer to race Hutch to take the edge off, but he was finding himself enjoying the sexiness of acting calm when he knew the both of them were volcanoes ready to erupt. 

But when they reached the bedroom their veneer of civility was shed as quickly as their jackets.   Starsky toed off his shoes as Hutch unsnapped his shoulder holster and hung up his magnum in the closet.  Then Starsky pounced, tumbling all six feet and one inch of his partner to the bed like a felled redwood. Hutch went down hard, and Starsky took advantage of the split second of control to plant his mouth on Hutch’s neck.  He bit gently and sucked, increasing the pressure of his teeth slowly.

“Oh, oh, oh…” Hutch breathed.  He grabbed Starsky by the shoulders and dug in his fingers as his legs tangled with Starsky’s to bring their groins flush. 

This would be the hickey to end all hickeys, Starsky decided on the spot.  Ruby red, it would grace Hutch’s neck for weeks.  Hutch would have to wear turtlenecks, even on the blistering hot days. 

“Starsk…” Hutch whined, and pushed at Starsky ever so slightly.  Nuh-uh, Starsky thought.  If Hutch didn’t use his words, Starsky wasn’t stopping.  He could picture the skin beneath his mouth flushing darker and darker.  It was like he was custom-painting a fine car.  Leaving his mark, like the white stripe on the Torino.  Hutch was his. 

Hutch went lax as the assault to his neck went on and on.  His arms dropped to the bed, and his legs went still, though one remained wrapped behind Starsky’s legs.  Triumph lit up Starsky’s nerves.  Hutch did this sometimes when Starsky took charge.  It was proof that Hutch was riding high already, even though they’d just started.  But of course Starsky had played dirty; he knew that attacking Hutch’s neck was sure to bring out Hutch’s submissive streak.

Suddenly, not being able to see his partner was too much for Starsky.  He let go of his bite, licking a few times at the violent splash of color before sitting back on his haunches.  Sure enough, Hutch had that dreamy, far-away look in his half-lidded eyes.  This was the perfect time to order his big blond partner around.  “Shirt off, now,” Starsky managed between heaving breaths, already working on his own buttons.

Hutch’s enormous hands came up to fumble at his shirt, and he blinked slowly several times before focusing on Starsky’s face.  Then suddenly Starsky was flipped on his back, and Hutch was grinning down at him.  One of his damn wrestling moves, of course.  All’s fair in love and war.

“How’m I supposed to get my clothes off now?” Starsky laughed.

Hutch deftly undid Starsky’s fly, then reached back to grab Starsky’s jeans by the ankles, yanking on them hard.  It only got his very tight jeans halfway down his hips, so Hutch pulled again, harder.  In what felt like slow-motion, Starsky watched as Hutch leaned too far back and slid off the foot of the bed.  There was a very loud thump and then muffled curses.

Starsky sat up.  “You okay, babe?”

Disheveled blond hair and chagrined eyes peered up over the edge of the bed.  “Fuck,” Hutch muttered, but he was smiling.

“You got my jeans off,” Starsky pointed out, helpfully. 

“I landed on my tailbone.” Hutch grimaced and crawled back onto the bed.

“Need me to kiss it and make it better?”

“Just wanna kiss you,” Hutch grumbled under his breath, so Starsky went willingly as Hutch drew him into his arms and laid them out on the bed, on their sides.

Hutch immediately went for Starsky’s neck, probably thinking that turnabout was fair play.  Starsky let him.  It felt good to have Hutch’s head tucked beneath his own, the hot wet mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Starsky dug his fingers into Hutch’s shoulder blades, half-foreplay and half-massage.  “Wanna fuck me?” he asked.  “You’re so tense.  I bet fucking me would help with that.” 

“Yeah,” Hutch agreed, hazy once again.  Starsky smiled; Hutch was so easy. 

“Then down you go.” Starsky pushed Hutch onto his back on the rumpled quilt, then quickly scooted back until he could easily bend down and capture Hutch’s cock in his mouth. 

“Starsk!” Hutch groaned, long and drawn-out.  “Wha— what?  Thought I— fucking you?”

Starsky considered pausing his blow job to answer Hutch’s question, but he had a good rhythm going and didn’t want to break it.  He was moving his head slightly, letting his lips slide up and down, while his tongue pressed gently against the underside of Hutch’s cock, timed with his shallow breaths. His left hand had found its way behind Hutch’s balls, rubbing the sensitive skin hidden there.

“Starsk, I can’t— I’m gonna—!”

And then Hutch shuddered and released into Starsky’s mouth.  Starsky felt Hutch’s cock soften, but didn’t let go yet.  He brushed his tongue carefully along Hutch’s length and felt it jerk and pulse again, and Hutch gasped.

They lay still for a moment, both of them huffing like oxygen was going out of style.  Starsky found his voice.  “Pretty nice… for an appetizer.”

“What was that about?” Hutch demanded.  His hand found its way into Starsky’s curls and tugged him up until their faces were level.  “Asking me to fuck you and then blowing me instead?”

“Oh, I still want you to fuck me. Is that gonna be a problem?”

Hutch’s eyes narrowed.  “Of course not. You’re the one who seems to be changing his mind.”

“Not changing my mind. Just tryin’ a little bit of everything. That’s what you do at buffets, right?”

Hutch growled.  An actual, angry-wild-animal growl.

Starsky grinned and ran his hands up and down Hutch’s thighs, enjoying the way the muscles twitched and jumped beneath his rough calloused fingers.  “Sounds like someone wants to dive right into round two.”

“Dammit, Starsk. We’re thirty-five years old. Give me half a sec, will ya?”

Starsky snapped his fingers.  “That reminds me.”  He bounced up and off the bed, heading to the couch where he’d thrown his jacket. He rifled through the pockets until he emerged with a small brown paper bag. “I found some interesting marital aids I thought we could try out.”

A surprised snort of laughter escaped Hutch.  “Marital aids?”

Starsky shrugged. “That’s what they were called in Uncle Elmo’s Adult Novelty Shop. Look here—“  He upended the bag on the bedspread. Three bright rings of various shapes and colors bounced out. “Cock rings.  The blood goes in but can’t go back out when you put one of these bad boys on. So you get hard quicker and stay hard longer.  Pretty cool, huh?”

Starsky wasn’t the least bit surprised when Hutch flushed.  He knew his partner well enough to anticipate the blend of embarrassment and indignation.  “Starsk, I don’t need help with… you know, maintaining an erection.  You just sucked me off, for heaven’s sake!  Is a measly ten minutes too much to ask?”

Riling up Hutch was a fine turn-on.  The trick was to seem confused by his anger. That always wound him up further.  “Geez, Hutch.  I’m not taking potshots at ya’.  I just thought it’d be fun to try something new.  That’s one of the best things about a buffet, isn’t it? You can try different new things that you might not want for a whole meal.”  Starsky picked up a bright red cock ring and gave it a little spin around his finger.  “Experiment a little.”

“Is our typical sex starting to bore you?” Hutch snapped, grabbing the ring out of Starsky’s hands and tossing it to the floor.

“Of course not.  This was your idea, remember? We coulda gone to that buffet — like you promised — and then had a stuffed and sleepy fuck.  But no, you had to be the food police.  And now the sex toy police.”

“Fine!” Hutch capitulated with what had to be the biggest, most put-upon sigh in California that night. “But you better know what you’re doing with those things, because I’ve never in my life needed a sex toy to satisfy anyone.”

“Don’t you worry, partner.  I’ve got you covered.  I know exactly what I’m doing.”

That gave Hutch pause.  “You’ve used cock rings before?”

“Yep.”

“On yourself?”

“Sure thing. On this very cock you see before you—”

Reflexively, Hutch dropped his gaze to Starsky’s crotch.

“—and it didn’t fall off or nothing.”

Hutch rolled his eyes.  “Oh, shut up.  And use this one.”  He handed Starsky the light blue ring, which also happened to be the biggest one.  Nervous that anything smaller would be too tight, Starsky wondered, or just gloating?  Or maybe Hutch just wanted to make a decision—any decision— while he still could, because it had to be obvious that control of the situation was rapidly slipping out of his fingers.

“Blue is your color.” Starsky pitched his voice flirty and low.  “Lie back against the pillows and get a good view.”

As Hutch reluctantly rearranged himself on the bed, Starsky grabbed the bottle of lube and spread a little on the inside of the ring.  He kneeled between Hutch’s legs, took hold of his cock and stroked it a few times to bring Hutch to semi-hardness, and then pushed the slick ring up to the base.

He glanced up and saw that Hutch was watching intently, his mouth open.  Starsky grinned and refocused on his task.  Next he stretched the ring open and quickly slid first one and then both balls through.  Now it was resting snuggly behind the sack, pushing the balls forward slightly.  “Beautiful,” Starsky admired.  “Like they’re on display.”

Hutch rolled his eyes again, but Starsky thought he looked pleased.

“I didn’t know cock rings went behind the scrotum,” Hutch said, voice a bit uneven as Starsky started stroking him again.

“They don’t hafta, but it’s tighter this way.  Does it hurt?”

Hutch shook his head, his eyes sliding shut as Starsky continued playing. He cupped Hutch’s sack in his hand, rubbing along the skin just below the ring.  Hutch’s breath hitched.

Starsky grinned.  “Okay, hotshot.  I got you ready.  Now get me ready so you can fuck me.”

Hutch snorted.  He opened his eyes and reached for the lube.  “Wanna switch places?”

Starsky pulled the lube out of Hutch’s reach.  “Nah. I like having you spread out before me like this.”  He grabbed one of Hutch’s large hands and squeezed lube onto the index finger. “Now stretch me already.”

Hutch obeyed, but he complained mildly, “You just want to use me for my hands and my dick.”

“That’s horribly unfair.  I want to use your mouth, too.” 

“I think you’re objectifying me.”

Starsky nodded, shivering a little at the sensation of being fingered. “Uh huh.  You’re the one who offered to be my big blond buffet.  So now you have one job, and one job only… to be consumed.”  It seemed to Starsky that his dirty talk was turning Hutch on, so he reached down to fondle his partner’s constricted cock.  Sure enough, it was almost completely hard already.  “You’re just here to satisfy my appetite, babe.  Of course, you can always cry uncle if my appetite is too big.”

Hutch cried out as Starsky gave a firmer stroke.  “Ne- Never.”

“Then lie back and enjoy being devoured.”  Starsky, already straddling Hutch, just had to reposition slightly to slide down onto Hutch’s cock.  Hutch gasped, his hands finding and gripping Starsky’s thighs.  Starsky had never done this from the top before, and it took some trial and error to get the right motion, but he got to watch Hutch’s face the whole time, and he could see exactly which swivels, sways, and dips of his hips drove Hutch the most crazy.

“I don’t think I can come,” Hutch groaned a few minutes later.  “It’s too soon.”

“You feel close though, huh?”

Hutch nodded.  “It’s so— ah!— so good.  But it’s too soon.”

“You crying uncle?”

“No!”

“Then you might as well come, ‘cause I’m going to keep this up until you do.” 

Hutch moaned, letting his head drop back to the pillows.  Starsky carefully leaned down, still rocking his hips, and nibbled and sucked at Hutch’s neck.  “In fact, maybe I’ll make you my sex toy.  I’ll keep that cock ring on you constantly, so you’re always hard, and I’ll use you like a dildo whenever I want.  You’ll just have to stay in my bed, twenty-four seven.  Or maybe I’ll keep you in the Torino so I can use you anywhere, anytime.”

“Starsk!”

“So I guess it doesn’t even matter if you come or not.  You’re just a gorgeous, life-sized vibrator.” Starsky’s thighs were getting sore, so he found a back-and-forth motion that wasn’t too strenuous and started squeezing his sphincter muscles in time to his thrusts. “I’ll have to put a collar on you so everyone knows you’re mine and no one tries to borrow you if I bring you to work. I could see a few of the guys getting jealous, especially if I had you kneel under the table and suck me while I’m typing up reports.”

With a cry, Hutch planted his feet flat on the bed so he could do his own thrusting, driving himself even closer to orgasm.

“Actually, I don’t need to put a collar on you.  Those hickeys will do the job nicely.  You’re mine, Hutch.  The moment I saw you, your fate was sealed. You’re gonna be my plaything forever.  And you’re going to love it.”

Hutch’s hands dug into Starsky’s hips as he yanked their bodies flush.  Hutch rocked shallowly a few quick times, stimulating the extra-sensitive underside of his cock, then groaned and stilled deep inside Starsky’s heat.

Starsky knew that Hutch had just had his second orgasm of the night.  He could also tell that the cock ring had kept Hutch from completely softening.  He sat down more fully on Hutch’s pelvis, and even that small movement made Hutch grimace in discomfort.

He petted Hutch’s face gently, sweeping back strands of sweaty hair. “Aww, babe.  You still hard?”

Hutch was still huffing and puffing.  He nodded, then managed to say, “Move off. Slow.”

Starsky moved off, slowly, only contracting his pelvic muscles once or twice in the process.  Then he grabbed a hand towel from the small stack Hutch kept by the bed, and started wiping Hutch off — very solicitously, of course — until Hutch batted him away with a growl.

Hutch seemed completely drained, but he blindly fumbled with one hand until he found the cock ring and slid it off, leaving his dick as limp as the rest of him.

Starsky got off the bed and tossed the towel in the hamper.  He had avoided climax up until now by keeping Hutch away from his cock and avoiding any prostate stimulation while riding Hutch.  But he was still right on the edge.  He needed all the help he could get to win this game, and a quick break would go a long way.  He spent a minute or two reading the titles of Hutch’s gardening books on the shelf by his bed.  By the time he reached 300 of the Most Asked Questions About Organic Gardening he knew he was cool enough for the next round.

“Hey Hutch,” he called as he got himself ready.  “You’ve had two delicious orgasms already and I haven’t had my first.”

There was a pointed silence that clearly meant, Whose fault is that?

“But don’t worry.  I’m really close.  And I’m sure once I’m done I’ll have had my fill of the Hutch buffet.”  Starsky clambered back onto the bed and pulled Hutch’s legs up onto his shoulders. “So I’m going to fuck you now.”

Hutch whimpered.

“Hey, whatsamatter? All you gotta do is lie there.”

They’d done this often enough that Starsky knew he didn’t need to stretch Hutch with his fingers, as long as he went carefully and slowly with his cock.  Which he did.  With plenty of lube he started a gentle, torturous penetration.  With every infinitesimal push forward, he slid across sensitive nerve endings.  “Forget the hickeys,” Starsky breathed. “I’m claiming you with my cock.”

Hutch made a pained sound.  Incredibly, Starsky could see that his cock was starting to fill again.  Not much, but enough to be very uncomfortable.

“This isn’t fair,” Hutch whined. “You made sure I’d come twice before you did this.”

“I took what I wanted from your body, and now I want your ass.  It’s just how the cookie crumbled,” Starsky replied, pausing long enough to form words.  “But you’re doing so well, blondie.  You can ride this out.  Remind yourself that you don’t have any control.  Unless you cry uncle, this is happening and you can’t stop it.”

Hutch’s cock filled a little more, and another moan escaped his lips.  “Fuck,” Hutch breathed. “Shut up.”

“Shut up and fuck.  Messaged received, loud and clear.”

To the beautiful sound of Hutch’s dismayed pleasure, Starsky sheathed himself fully.  He took a moment to rub up and down Hutch’s thighs, squeezing his butt, and then found Hutch’s hands. He pulled them both up above Hutch’s head and pressed them into the pillow there.  Then he began to fuck in earnest.

He could tell the exact moment he found Hutch’s prostate.  Hutch’s muscles flexed as if he’d been shocked, and he let out a garbled “I can’t—!”  even as he arched up for more.  Starsky took careful aim and brushed that same spot again, harder.

There was a moment’s delay, and then Hutch started kicking Starsky, hard enough that Starsky knew he meant business.  “Off!” Hutch groaned.  “Off!”

Starsky carefully withdrew, gently dislodging Hutch’s legs and laying them back down.  Hutch was breathing like a bellows, cock half-hard, tears leaking from his eyes. With effort, he slapped at the bed, the wrestling sign for tapping out.  The elation of winning welled up, and Starsky found himself grinning, even through the physical frustration of delayed climax.  Just to make sure, he softly asked, “This you admitting you’re not all-you-can-eat?”

Hutch nodded. 

“Ahh, babe.  You may not be all-you-can-eat, but you are one fine dish.” Starsky settled down on the pillows next to Hutch and spooned close to him. 

Hutch smiled and exhaustedly rolled over until he was face down, half on Starsky’s chest.  He kissed Starsky’s ear and then sleepily nuzzled his neck.

“Ahh, that’s nice.” Starsky reached down and stroked himself while enjoying the warm weight and smell of Hutch.  It only took a few strokes.  He came with a quiet sigh.  It was possible Hutch hadn’t even noticed. 

“You’ve earned a rest.  Sleep a little. Then we’re going to wash up and go to that buffet tonight. And tomorrow night. And the night after that.”

Silence.  He’d overstimulated Hutch into a dead slumber.  Starsky regarded him happily.  “But I’m going to nosh on you for the rest of my life.”