Hutch opened the door and was immediately struck by the sweet smell of Christmas that hung in the apartment. Starsky was standing at the stove stirring a pot and Hutch walked up behind him. He put his arms around Starsky’s waist and kissed the nape of his neck, nuzzling his nose in the soft curls.
“Smells good.” He said.
“Thank you.” Starsky went on stirring. “Why don’t you go and slip into something more comfortable then come back and relax.” Hutch noted that his partner was already dressed in sweatpants and a soft T-shirt that outlined his perfect torso. Hutch patted the firm round butt in front of him and said “be right back”.

Hutch stripped and showered and dressed in his dark green sweat-suit; he didn’t bother with a T-shirt and he left the zipper of the jacket undone. He walked back into the living room and admired the Christmas tree. He had to admit that Starsky decorated the tree better than he ever could. It was covered in red and gold balls and thick red and gold tinsel swathed it. Hutch looked up at the top of the tree and chuckled. Starsky strikes again Instead of a star or an angel there were two action man dolls; one was wearing a tiny replica of Starsky’s Mexican sweater jacket and the other had a tan leather jacket, both wore jeans. They were locked in an embrace at the top of the tree.

“Sit down, I’m nearly ready.” Starsky called from the kitchen.
Hutch made himself comfortable on one of the big cushions that Starsky had arranged in front of the low table.
Starsky came into the room; he placed a tray with two wine glasses and a few plates of appetizers on the table. Hutch reached for a few potato chips and waited. Starsky returned with the pot that he’d been stirring and Hutch inhaled the sweet aroma of wine and nutmeg and oranges, cinnamon and cloves. Starsky ladled some of the mulled wine into each glass and returned the pot to the stove to stay warm.

Starsky settled on a cushion next to Hutch and clinked glasses. “Here’s to us, may our days be merry and bright …”
“Here’s to us.” Hutch sipped the warm wine and raised an eyebrow. “It’s good.”
Starsky sipped from his glass then twined his arm around Hutch’s forcing his lover to drink out the other glass. “I always wanted to do that with you. But…”
“But what?”
“You’re such a klutz I thought I’d end up with wine all over my pants.”
Hutch sipped neatly from Starsky’s glass and looked up over the rim into the deep blue eyes.
“You’d only have wanted me to lick it up.”
“Mmmmm.”

They continued to drink their wine and Starsky wandered into the kitchen to refill their glasses. The appetizers soon disappeared.
Starsky reached over and pulled Hutch towards him; he kissed him carefully.
Hutch put his glass on the table and took Starsky in his arms. He ran his hands up under the T-shirt and stroked Starsky’s chest hairs. Starsky leaned back onto his lap and purred like a contented cat.
Hutch could feel his cock hardening under Starsky’s perfect butt. He lifted the T-shirt and Starsky put up no resistance when Hutch drew it over his head and dropped it on the floor. He pulled Starsky back into his arms and enjoyed the feeling of his soft warm skin against his own bare chest. He glanced down and kissed the angry scar on his partner’s shoulder. What should have been a romantic Italian dinner had turned into a nightmare and Starsky would bear the scar forever.
Hutch kissed Starsky’s shoulder again and the brunet turned slightly to look him in the eye.
His gaze said everything.

Hutch let his hands wander further down Starsky’s body and he slipped his fingers under the elastic of the waistband of his cotton sweatpants. Starsky wasn’t wearing underwear and Hutch felt the heat of his cock as he touched his lower curls. Starsky moaned and squirmed slightly. Hutch eased the sweatpants down Starsky’s legs and held his balls in his hands. He kneaded gently and was quickly rewarded by the sight of Starsky’s beautiful dark penis rising up to greet him. He stroked the underside with his finger and Starsky trembled slightly and moaned. Hutch kissed his neck again. Starsky shifted his weight slightly and Hutch knew that he was offering himself. Hutch struggled to release his own hardening cock from its cotton cage. Starsky remained quiet in his arms; submissive and warm.
“Aren’t you going to help me a little?” Hutch whispered hoarsely.
Starsky turned and rewarded him with a big lopsided smile. “No.”
Hutch started to stroke Starsky’s buttocks and work his hands towards the slit between them. He searched for something to provide a little lubrication and reached out to dip his finger in the remains of his wine. Starsky grabbed his wrist and took the finger into his mouth. He licked and sucked at Hutch’s finger in a perfect echo of his usual ministrations to Hutch’s cock. Hutch didn’t need anything else. He felt the first dew drops of pre-cum escape from his throbbing cock. He withdrew his finger from Starsky’s mouth and gently inserted into the tight warm hole. Starsky wriggled his butt and sighed. “You can do better than that.”
Hutch withdrew his finger and pulled Starsky back down towards him. He parted Starsky’s strong muscular buttocks and eased his cock in to replace his finger. The finger had done the trick, relaxing Starsky’s tight anal sphincter enough for Hutch to enter without causing pain. He pushed gently and was rewarded with a backward thrust of Starsky’s pelvis. Hutch took Starsky’s cock in his hand and began to echo the rhythm of his puling cock. He stroked the exposed tip of Starsky penis with his finger and pressed the sensitive gland gently – like pressing a button – or pulling a trigger.
As his finger found Starsky’s gland his own cock made contact with his prostate. Hutch pushed once more and felt his semen rushing up to fill Starsky with his love. As he fired on all barrels so did Starsky and Hutch’s hand was filled with the warm sticky liquid.
They rolled over together and the tree shuddered dangerously. Starsky smiled. “Good thing I didn’t put candles on it!”

Hutch licked his hand then held it out to his partner who bent his head to lap the cum from between his fingers.

“I love you Dave Starsky.”
“I love you Ken Hutchinson.”
“You know that song you like?”
“Which one?”
“Judy Garland….it kind of gets it right doesn’t it?”
Starsky grinned; “oh what you mean that line about “make the Yuletide gay….”
They rolled over in one another’s arms and locked lips again in a long, long kiss.