Starsky and Hutch's Plushie Adventure
"Hutch! Stop messing around, and just get the damn zipper unstuck!"
"Just hold on! You know we wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't piped up about how big you were into supporting sports in underprivileged schools"
"I thought that...well, maybe we could...well, umpire or coach, soft ball or something like that.... I never dreamed that we...that...we would...."
"Get stuck being mascots? Hell, I knew something was up by how sweet he was smiling at us." He gave a yank at the zipper. It promptly broke.
"Hell! Were going to have to cut this off!"
Starsky swore under his breath. "We can't! Do you know how much it cost to make a outfit like this? Hundreds of bucks! I don't have that kind of cash laying around!"
"Calm down. Let me think. Lets get you back to my place, I can call Jennifer; her Mom knits."
"Like that's going to help. Can't you at least get the head off? I'm having problems breathing."
Several tries later.
"Its no use. Lets just get the hell out of here and try and find someone to help"
The trip was uneventful, even with Starsky having to hand his head out the window like some overgrown lab, the short ears flapping in the wind. Honks and comments followed the two the whole way back to the apartment.
"I am going to kill you."
"Just relax. Have a beer"
"Don"t mock a dying man."
I have a straw."
"You have a reprieve."
Three beers later found his partner a bit more mellow.
The problem was. You can't buy beer, just rent it.
"I have got to go."
"Starsky, just wait, I am sure Jen will be home soon. She can think of something."
Heavily furred mittens pawed at the front of his outfit, looking for a nonexistent zipper.
"Wait a sec. Let me see.." Hutch dropped to his knees looking for a seam. "If I cut it along this line, we can sew it back up."
"You want to do what? I am not that drunk."
"Face it Starsky, we're going to have to do something"
"Man, did I ever tell you that I hate sports? How about a diaper or something?"
"As attractive as that idea is and no matter how much it turns me on, be real. Not that we could get it on you any way. Just relax. Trust me. I got your back. This is your partner speaking. I got a new pack of razorblades somewhere around here."
"You know I love you, right? I was just kidding about every thing I said, right?" Starsky was shaking a bit. The Mascots uniform was a bit tight down there. Too tight. And getting tighter. Fear does many things to people. Alcohol decreases inhibition, and Hutch's hands were down there. Doing things....
Shit.
Hutch looked up, but was unable to see Starsky's eyes. He had made the cut as carefully as he could, on the seam, but to protect his partner's...his partner's privates he had...had to -- move them. Just a bit. Then a bit more.
It was insistent. Hard and demanding release, curved up till near his partners belly button, rubbing on the furred belly that was near as thick and plush as the fake fur on the suit. There was no way that he was going to be able to...to....
A furred paw settled down on his shoulder. "Help me." Starsky sounded so.... Helpless, so needing, so -- drunk.
What the hell have we gotten into? Trance like, Hutch pulled the engorged member out of the slit in the fur. He did not mean to do it. It just happened. He had some idea, some hope that if he got him out and aimed, that his partner could...well.... Relieve himself.
Oh, he relieved himself. Starsky started moaning, trembling. The furred muzzle tilted towards the ceiling, and a cry tore from his lips, just as he shot his load right into Hutch's face.
Shock. As to who was the most shocked it would be hard to say. Starsky was frozen in place, slumped against the bathroom wall, his cock deflating, still in Hutch's hands.
Hutch grabbed a towel, and quickly wiped the evidence off of his face and neck. Damn. He pulled his partner forward, lifted the lid and seat to the toilet.
"Go." The one word order was understood and followed. Hutch held his partner till he finished, careful not to soil the fur.
Hell. He was in hell. Carefully he pulled his partner back, and managed to tuck him back into his outfit.
"Hutch.... I'm so sorry." So soft that he could scarcely hear it.
"Its .. Lets get you out of this, at least the head." Hutch reached into the small gap, and found the suspenders that held on the head. He was able to release it. The head came away slowly, despite Starsky's overwhelming need for fresh air.
"Hutch...I think...I am so.... I am going to pass out." Starsky wavered and started to slip back against the wall.
"Dehydration. Come on, let's get you some water. I've got some juice...you were out in the sun for -- hours! Beer was the last thing you should have had."
Starsky was on the bed, and Hutch was carefully giving him small frequent sips of water and OJ, pulling the straw away and bringing it back when Starsky licked his lips to signal more. No words were spoken. What do you say to your best friend after he shoots his load in your face, after you've been fondling him for 15 minutes? Somehow he had to get past this, both of them had to.
The OJ was gone, the water was too. Five glasses should be enough to start rehydration. He licked at the sweat on his partners forehead, to test it for how salty it was.
Right. Like that was a bright thing to do. Starsky moaned, a small half smothered sound that came from deep down in his belly.
Somehow he got the idea that this was not the smartest thing that he could have done. A guy might get the wrong impression, doing something like that. Licking your partners forehead, after he just shot his wad in your hand, on your face.
"Hutch...I...just. Come'ear, please?" Starsky looked lost, confused, scared.
Hutch had never seen him this vulnerable. "It's OK babe. I've got you. We need to get you out of this. Us out of this."
"You got out of the deal lucky, you know. You don't have to explain to your partner about just why fake fur gets your rocks going. Or your partners touch."
"Its OK. We can blame
the beer or the heat, or anything."
"No one is to blame. 'Cept if it's me. I jumped at putting on that outfit, let you take the less plush one, I mean, there's nothing big about a baseball uniform and a paper alligator head, right? But this, it was like a wet dream. All of that fur, all of that soft and nice.... And I have always loved cats. I couldn't resist. Wild Cats! Will always be my favorite team."
"You just said that you hated sports." Despite himself, he was amused. Hutch laid down next to his partner, an arm around his shoulder offering comfort to his friend.
"Yeah, right. Look, we're going to have to replace the zipper any way, do you think that you can cut the zipper out of this?"
"I can give it a try."
It was a careful, taxing twenty minutes work, as Hutch painstakingly ripped out the three lines of thread that held the zipper fast. This was good work. Pity that zipper had been so cheap. Starsky tried to lay still, but half way through he started to micro twitch, rubbing his hips slightly on the bed.
"Careful. I don't want to slip and cut the suit."
"Right. Don't worry about your poor partner. Heaven forbid that you slip and cut me."
"Your not leaving me much of a choice." Hutch pined his partner down with the simple expedient of sitting on his ass. A soft 'ouff' of surprise came from his partner, but no further comment.
At last his task was completed, and Hutch pulled away the fur, reveling his partners furry, sweaty back.. Hutch paused, unsure of why he was hesitating, just knowing that his relationship with his partner had been forever somehow changed.
He was unsure of whether to just leave the room, or stay and talk. Starsky moaned softly beneath him. At that moment Hutch realize that the close friction the contact had given him a major woody, that was at this moment poking his partner in the ass.
No. Leaving was never a
option Somehow he had to see this through. There partnership was riding on it.
Or he was riding on it. Or something.
"Hutch?" The voice was strained, slightly panicked, needy.
"I'm here."
"I know you're there, asshole. Just wondering what your going to do about it." He sounded more normal, slowly grounding. "I mean, are you just going to sit on my ass all day, or...are you...I mean, what do you want?"
If he knew what he wanted, he would not still be just sitting there. "Just checking out my options. How are you doing?"
"If you keep sitting there and wiggling your cock on my ass, were going to have to get this dry-cleaned. Know what I mean?"
"I got you." In what way he got him, he was not sure But no matter what, he had his partner back.
"You could start by getting off. Of me that is." Starsky sounded amused at this point.
"OK. Just give me a second." Hutch pried himself up off of his partner, hovering for a few seconds, mesmerized by the sight of Starsky's ass framed by the vee of fur, put on high display, the hair there trickling down to a soft fine down. He could not help himself. With one finger he touched it, hair that was usually hidden by boxers or swim trunks or shorts. So soft. Fine. He petted it like a kitten, transfixed by the unexpected texture of it, compared to the dark thick fleece that covered most of the rest of his body.
It hit home to him just how his actions were impacting his partner, when Starsky let lose a soft deep moan.
"Hutch.. Please.. You're making this harder."
"What if that is part of my plan?" Banter. Damn his mouth. It was one thing to talk big when you're dealing with druggies and cops, but different when you were in bed with your best friend in a...to be honest, very strange situation.
"I'd say put your mouth were your mind is, but...," Starsky rolled over to look at his partner, a mix of passion and concern in his eyes. "I think that we need...."
"We need to talk. You can take that off any time by the way."
"Good plan. But I don't have any pants, or shoes for that matter. We took off without me getting them."
Hutch dropped down on the bed beside him. This was one of the moments that if you did not laugh, you would cry. It was a near thing, but he started to snicker, and then to laugh, then howl. In a moment, he was joined by Starsky.
For long moments the two were lost in laughter.
It was not clear just who kissed who first. Just that they were hugging and kissing, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Hutch was taken aback, when he realized that Starsky was sliding his hand over his tented pants, stroking his cock through the cloth, rubbing his hands in sure strokes over and around, between, cupping the tight balls, outlining his cock with knowing fingers, seeking the zipper with a confidence that unsettled Hutch.
"Starsky? Why are you doing this?" Hutch was still, almost trembling, torn by need and concern.
"Want me to stop?" Starsky froze with his fingers on the tab, the act of pulling down the zipper halted.
"More like.. slow down. This feels so weird. I mean, I never envisioned you in my bed in a fur suit."
"How did you envision me in your bed?" Trust Starsky to be the clown.
"With hand cuffs and a gag." Damn. He was digging his grave fast. And he had had only three beers. Same as Starsky. In a hour, and nothing to eat.
"Kinky. We can do that next." Starsky resumed the pull on the zipper.
"Where did you get this kink for fur anyway? I never suspected it. Ever."
Starsky sighed and released the zipper, realizing that Hutch was not going to let this go that easy. "When I was fourteen, I had a friend that had a sister. She used to let me come into her room when I was sleeping over. She had all of these stuffed animals, big plush and furry things that she slept with. Never saw so many toys outside a shop. She would let me climb into bed with her and her stuffed toys, and let me touch her tits through her fleece robe, then she would bring me off with this fuzzy hand puppet." Hutch snickered. "Hey, I was fourteen. It was so soft and...well any way, it got so that I just started to like the feel of fur."
"You never wear fur."
"Too distracting. I have my soft angora sweater. That is the best compromise. Comforting. And I don't need this kind of distraction at work, or to be on point all the time." Starsky shrugged his shoulders, the fur sliding down a bit, his arm and exposed, still touching Hutch.
"So what is this about handcuffs and a gag? Sounds kind of fun." Starsky winked at his partner.
"Taking you home and forgetting all about this isn't going to happen, right?"
"Only if you really want it to." Starsky voice was neutral, detached, sad.
"I...I'm not sure what I want. I want not to screw up us."
"That's not going to happen. We've been through too much. We can do this if you want it. Do you want it?" It was extremely unfair that at that moment he chose to stroke Hutch's still hard cock in a compellingly convincing way.
"Yeeeseee.. " Hutch was a firm believer in you took what the gods offered to you. If you were offered sex from someone that you loved, and who loved you, who was he to complain?
"'Love you Hutch."
The confirmation was the last word that he heard. The zipper was down, and
Starsky was doing wonderful, wild, and unexpected things to him. Hands and fur,
tongue and lips on his balls, his cock. Somehow his pants were removed, and he
had the sensation of fur on his legs. His tee shirt was pulled away, and he had
the sensations of fur on his chest, stroking his nipples. A mouth on one and a
paw on the other; milking, stroking, and kneading, as his cock was played like a
fine instrument. Hutch spread his legs wide and wanton, allowing his partner
access to whatever he desired. Allowing himself to drink in the rich tide of new
sensations.
His climax was almost an anti-climax. His whole skin was alive with sensation, fur, and heat and the sweet salty musky smell that was his and his partner, as Starsky rode him, his cock protruding through the fur suit. Fur and skin and him rubbing on him, shuddering, cumming just seconds after he did.
"Hot." Hutch made his observation. It was not a request, but Starsky kissed him, and rolled off any way.
The two laid in disarrayed silence for a few minutes, and being guys, with six beers between them and mind blowing sex, fell asleep.
A week later. Feb 14
Hutch looked at the package on his desk with a plain brown wrapper. He looked at his partner. Starsky had a far far too innocent look on his face, the upper corner of his lip twitched up in mischief. This could not be good. He reached for the box, prepared to unwrap it. No one was in the office at the moment anyway.
"Hutch? You might want to wait to open that later." The half smile blossomed into a full grin.
Oh no. He knew that look. "Am I going to need the bomb squad?" Hutch picked up the box gingerly and shook it, listening for a tell tale ticking.
"Just hope it's not a hand blown glass globe. You'd have broken it." The grin never wavered.
"Plain brown wrapper. That can only mean.. "
"Someone's too cheap to buy wrapping paper?"
"Right. What's this all about?" Hutch narrowed his eyes at his partner.
The last week had been a near non-stop carnal delight. Work had been the same as always, they had decided that work and play should be separate things. The date had not missed him. Valentine's Day. He had expected something from his playful partner. With trepidation, he set it down.
"Just a little something that I think that you would like... "
The box sat for the rest of the morning, taunting him on his desk. A call came that required them to hit the street. Casually he scooped the box under his arm, taking it with him.
Starsky made no comment, but his smile got even bigger.
The bust was bigger than expected. Hutch had cuffed two men together through a bike rack, confident in its holding them as it was rooted in concrete; the problem was the other two, one he was sitting on, the next he had by the foot. If he let go to get his gun the teen would run, and Hutch knew that he would not fire on a kid, when all that was at stake was five finger discounting. The fact that there were five of them tag teaming the shop, that was a serious matter.
"Need some help partner?" Starsky strolled up, looking far too complacent.
"Yeah, if you're not too busy at the moment, could you cuff these guys?"
"Sure.. but I left my cuffs on the ring leader back there. Just have to open your present for you." Starsky pulled the small box out from behind his back, and started unwrapping. "I wish you could do this for yourself, but, hey."
Hutch's eyes almost popped. In Starsky's hands were a pair of handcuffs.
Fur-lined handcuffs. He made no comment as his partner slapped on the cuffs, locking them carefully, and helped the two up.
"Back up should be here any minute"
Back up arrived, the cuffs were recovered without undue notice. Starsky handed the fur lined cuffs to his partner in the car. "Happy Valentine's Day. So sorry that they're slightly used." The grin was back. "I remember what you said about handcuffs and a gag. Well, this is handcuffs and a gag..."
"I am going to murder you. They will never find the body." Hutch mock-growled at his partner. He took the cuffs and started to put them away in his jacket. "Oh by the way, Happy Valentine's Day." He pulled out a small plush red devil, complete with a pitchfork and pointed tail. "I saw it and thought of you. A horny devil."
The record to getting to Hutch's place from the corner that they were at is unknown, but they most likely broke it.