Without giving himself time to think, Hutch leaned over and touched his lips lightly to those of his partner. “Happy?”
“Please,” Starsky said sarcastically as he reached up and fisted his hands into the folds of Hutch’s shirt, “I’ve kissed my mother’s butcher with more enthusiasm than that! Come on, Hutch, you have to get into it, I mean, you know, close your eyes and . . .”
“And?” Hutch raised his eyebrows questioningly.
Starsky sighed in disgust. “Just pretend I’m someone else, all right?”
“I can’t pretend you’re someone else—I spend sixteen hours a day seven days a week with you.” Hutch snapped, equally irritable. “How the hell am I supposed to pretend you’re someone else? Huh?”
Starsky leaned forward, and Hutch could feel his breath caressing his face; he could also smell the faint scent of the merlot that they’d had with dinner. An icy-hot chill ran the length of his spine; Hutch shivered.
“Come on, Hutch.”
“Wha—”
Starsky’s lips made one pass over his and, before Hutch could recover, Starsky’s tongue roamed around like it was moving in. Even through the rich bouquet of the wine, and the chocolate they’d had for dessert, Starsky’s essence exploded over Hutch’s taste buds, filling his senses . . . every ounce of moisture in his throat evaporated. Gasping for breath, Hutch tried to back away, but Starsky held him firm.
Oh my God, Hutch thought desperately, his groin filling with the blood that fled his brain. But as he lost his way inside the soft, welcoming cavern of his best friend’s mouth, any objections that he might have made all but vanished. He was aware of nothing more than the scrape of Starsky’s teeth across his lips and the linoleum that seemed to shift dangerously beneath his feet.
Somehow Hutch managed to catch his breath—and his balance—as the needed oxygen filled his lungs. Hutch’s blood reached the boiling point and before he realized what he was doing, he kissed Starsky back. There was a part of him shocked to discover that his hands were already entangled in his partner’s dark curls, pulling Starsky even deeper into the kiss; but there was another that just wanted him closer. Using his extra height, Hutch leaned forward, tilted Starsky’s head back, and plunged hungrily into his mouth.
