For Sue

All I Want

By Pepper

We've talked about our fantasies before, but in truth we haven't done a whole lot of exploring.

The handcuffs are out; neither of us wants to mix business with pleasure.

The only time hot wax got dripped on bare skin was during a power outage, and we were more interested in locating a flashlight.

And as for dressing up and playing a kink, well, we get enough of that with undercover work.

Buzzed a bit on beer one night, I confessed to Hutch what I fantasized about the most.

The most erotic thing imaginable, I told my partner, was of him displaying his body, masturbating with me as only an observer.

"I want you to show me how you touch yourself. I want to watch…" I faltered, gasping from a thirst I did not understand and a heat I knew all too well.

I think my intensity probably scared him a little. I know it did me.

Hutch's first reaction was boyish discomfort. He blushed quietly and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

Then, he narrowed his eyes, and a sly look came over his face.

"Tell me what you want." His voice had a husky edge. "What do you want me to do?"

"I… I want to watch you jerk off."

I told him this five minutes ago, and now I'm completely rethinking my game plan.

I think I'm way in over my head.

Hutch's spread out before me, his back up against pillows at the headboard, and his knees slightly bent and apart. The soft light from the bedside lamp illuminates his strong, golden body, and he looks at me through half-lidded eyes.

I'm on my own knees at his feet.

Hutch's hand reaches for the oil he keeps on the bedside table.

I watch in sheer agony as he drizzles silky liquid into his hand, snaps the lid shut with his mouth, and tosses the bottle aside.

Rubbing his palms together unhurriedly, Hutch settles back against the pillows once more and directs me with his eyebrows to scoot further away from him. I do, but not too far. I feel my own heavy cock sway with the movement and start to fill.

I'm also beginning to feel a little crazy here, all that luscious Hutch so close to me, and yet he's out of reach.

I know I'm staring, drinking in the sight before me, but I can't help it. He's just so goddamned gorgeous, more so than ever before.

My head is spinning a bit, maybe from lack of blood, of pleasure that must be like the pure pop of heroin, but most of all, I think I'm starting to now understand just how he's in control of this show.

I think that's the fucking point.

Oh, god.

My own hardening cock is dancing against my thigh, an ache like a wound, and I feel like howling at the moon.

I want to touch myself in the worst way possible but don't want this to be over too soon. At this rate though, I might just have to sit on my hands to keep them from roaming.

Hutch is brazenly milking himself just for me, and suddenly I'm the one feeling shy and unsure. Go figure.

His gaze locks on mine, daring me to look away.

I allow my hand to sweep across myself a few times, gauging his reaction.

Hutch smiles that warm smile of his, and he allows his gaze to drop to my hand for a second. I see the beginning of a slight furrow forming between his eyes, so I snatch my hand away before there's time for his expression to turn into a full-blown frown.

I lean forward a bit, graze my kneecap over his foot lightly, and then completely surrender to Hutch's display.

And what a show it is.

Hutch's running his open hand along the full length of his rigid cock, twisting his wrist a little to cover every inch of exposed skin and showing me the shiny, veined thing it's become. The cover, the sheath, rides up and down as he slides it back, and then home.

His other hand maps out his stomach, pausing every so often to dig his fingers in his belly.

Then he moves that hand over his nipples, and I watch with wonder and longing as they harden and darken under his touch.

Hutch strokes up to his throat, and then sweeps back down to his belly, and all the while works his dick like it's the only thing in the room.

Actually, I think it might be.

Except for mine, of course, now so full and so hard I think if I close my eyes, I'll see stars.

Hutch's own eyes are trying valiantly to maintain contact with mine, but I can see his resolve slowly erode. It's as if all his concentration is on his working hands, and that there's precious little left to keep his eyes focused or, occasionally, even open.

I can hear Hutch's breathing become labored, see his chest rapidly rise and fall, and it suddenly occurs to me that, despite his initial shyness, Hutch really wouldn't be doing this if he wasn't getting into it himself. This pleases me to no end. I think that if he likes it, then I could convince him to do it again, especially if I…

"Starsky," he puffs suddenly, blue eyes startlingly dilated, leveled on me. "Are you paying attention?"

Embarrassed beyond belief at allowing my mind to drift at such a ridiculously inopportune moment, I choke, "God yes, Hutch. Are you kidding? How could you think I'd…?"

"Shut. Up." And he rests his head on the pillows, clearly needing to regain his concentration.

I'm completely fixated on him now. I swear silently that I won't drift even an inch away, in body or mind.

An abrupt intake of breath brings his head forward again, and I see from his hazy expression that he's quickly recouped any ground he may have lost by speaking.

Hutch's actions become more methodical. He tweaks his left nipple hard and then works the right one.

His strong grip works his shaft rhythmically, and then his other hand joins it, sliding under himself, getting lost in there for a moment.

I focus for a moment on his tightening testicles tangling in the thatch of blond hair, the very place I want to bury my nose.

He rakes at his smooth thigh with a fingernail. I can see the initial white mark start to blaze red; I imagine my lips wetting him there, running my tongue over the welt.

Then Hutch's hips come off the bed slightly, offering me a glimpse of his dark opening.

I hear my moan join his in the quiet room and can smell his musk, his need.

The tempo of Hutch's right hand quickens, and his thumb runs over the spot just behind the head, the place that must be as sweet for him as it is for me.

Then he brutally pulls on his now-taut balls and throws his shoulders back against the pillows.

Now that Hutch is that far gone, I grab at my cock in relief and start to match his strokes. My dick is hot, and heavy and, god, so ready to pop I think I might shout out loud.

I hear the sound, the low growl at the back of his throat. It's the noise he makes when he's close, impatient, and yet still trying to hold back so he can milk every bit of sensation from the moment just before he goes over the edge.

Suddenly, Hutch almost violently bends his cock, trapping it against his tight stomach, and I can only look on in awe as his back arches once, twice.

His head dips low before smashing back again against the pillow.

And then Hutch roars ferociously and spurts. It's something that sends me into orbit along with him.

The protective hand he has over his gleaming tip is covered with milky fluid. He grunts a few more times, forcing the last bit of liquid, and shuddering, a moment after I do.

"God!" Hutch pants triumphantly. "Oh, god." His fingers are shiny, lax and wet.

I'm still incapable of speech. My own climax was so powerful, I think I may have given birth to a new solar system somewhere.

When I finally blink enough times to see clearly, I focus on Hutch sitting slack-limbed against the pillows, a fresh glow to his cheeks and chest, and a lazy, crooked smile on his lips.

I somehow harness the energy to crawl over to him.

Hutch looks pretty wiped out. I want to ask him if he's all right. Before I can, he smiles at me sweetly.

"Come here," he says, and opens his arms to me.

The end.