S&H fic: An American Pastime, by kuonji (NC-17)
Title: An American Pastime
Series: Beginnings And Endings
Author: kuonji
Fandom: Starsky & Hutch
Characters: *highlight for spoilers: OMC:Howie
Pairings: reference to Hutch/OMC
Category: character study
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: disturbing theme
Words: ~1200
Summary: The smell of grass, the buzz of excited humanity, a partly cloudy day, and a high seat with a good view. What more could a man want?
A/N: Originally, I wanted to post this together with " All Grown Up" under the title "The Angel Stories". This story was delayed, however, because although much shorter, I thought it required more finesse. Again, this is different from the other stories. Please let me know what you think.
A/N: Note the rating and warnings.
An American Pastime
by kuonji
The smell of grass, the buzz of excited humanity, a partly cloudy day, and a high seat with a good view. What more could a man want?
"Peanuts, sir? Chocolate? How about a box of genuine Crackerjack?"
He smiled congenially at the little entrepreneur, a tow-headed boy with a round face and active eyes. He had a tray of foodstuffs strapped around his neck and waist, looking quite the professional little peanut vendor. Smiling back, he fished out some coins and took a Hershey's bar. "Thanks, kid."
"Thank you, sir. Please come again."
He laughed. Kids these days. He watched as, money stuffed safely down his shorts pocket, the boy picked his way down the bleachers, still hawking his wares. The seats were almost full for the last game of the semester. In his own nondescript t-shirt and neutral-colored ball cap, he looked like any other father out to cheer on his son. And since the onlookers weren't segregated by team, anyone who didn't recognize him would simply assume he was here for a boy who was playing for the other side.
Which, in a way, he was.
He looked out over the field at the milling bodies, searching for a head of sun-bright blond and the blue and white striped uniform with the number 6 on the back.
There.
Having found what he was looking for, he opened his chocolate and leisurely took a bite. The boy down by the home team's dugout was talking with his teammates, his face serious but with an underpinning of excitement.
Hutchinson's boy was as pretty as a picture. Literally. The photo his daddy kept in his office had little Kenny dressed up like a wide-eyed angel. In living color, with a slight flush across the pale face and bits of gold leaking out from under the ball cap, the sight near took his breath away.
As he watched, the lanky boy put an arm around the person next to him and leaned in to whisper intimately in one ear. It could be seen as simply the sort of thing one might do in loud surroundings, but he knew better. He could just imagine what the brush of those lips must feel like. The musk of his closeness.
The other boy must have said something, because Kenny laughed and shoved him away. The gesture would look merely playful to anyone else, but he could see how those long fingers contacted no more than a hairsbreadth from the nipples.
It was clear that Kenny was already feeling the urge to touch the male bodies around him, secretly seeking to excite, his desires as yet virginally unaware but blooming with wild speed. Unknowingly, he was already practicing those wiles that would surely get him in trouble one day if they weren't... guided. Directed. Honed to purpose with an experienced and trusted mentor.
He took a satisfied breath and shifted in his seat. Oh, he'd struck the big one this time. The boy was sensuality incarnate. Look at the way he acted, right out there in front of everybody! He was blatantly begging to be taken to bed, to be exposed and explored. He was desperate to open himself, to share himself, but no one yet had understood his plea. Until now. He'd never seen a boy more ready.
For a moment, he worried that what he was seeing was the result of a predecessor's work, and this vision of perfection was a blind bound to diappoint. But, no. Further observation assured him. That unartful laying of the hands, and that unstudied jut of hips belonged yet to an unawakened siren.
Chuckling at his own amateurish anxiety, he consciously relaxed himself. He had found enough youthful protégés like this that he should believe in his own skills of detection. He had never been wrong yet. Oh, he would watch a little longer, of course, just to be sure. But it would be almost more for the pleasure of it than for necessity. His instincts were excellent, and this one... He could already see that long, slender neck with his proud mark of ownership around it.
Sitting back, he allowed himself to fantasize about the beginning steps of his strategy. Freeing an incubus was as challenging as taming any feral, spirited creature -- and the rewards were just as much worth the risk.
He had already had hope he could start fast. Hutchinson and he had discussed management strategies when they last met, from which he knew that the man was a strict father, but one who believed in independent action and responsibility for his children. Kenny had his time in his own control, always a plus. The boy also knew his own mind, another plus. He wasn't one of those perverts who went after defenseless children, after all. No, he only picked the boys who wanted what he had to give.
Now that he had seen Kenny, it was obvious that he had been right. The walls around the frustrated seducer inside the boy were already worn thin. Reassurance and gentleness would coax the boy to take the first steps in bucking society's outdated taboos. After that, it would only be a matter of encouraging the boy to come into his true self. He'd seen it all before. He'd helped many a confused young soul, longing fruitlessly with no outlet until he showed them the way.
It'd been a while since the last, but he was glad he had waited for Kenny. He thought this boy would be special. In fact, the more difficult task would be to go slow enough to stretch out the enjoyment. He would have to limit himself severely. The boy was as close to the cusp as it was possible to be, a sparrowhawk teetering at the very edge of the nest. The one-story that he was cash-renting would come into use before the month was out, he wagered. The Egyptian cotton sheets there would know company in less than another.
Already, he could imagine those tender hungry nubs perking up under his fingers like candy. He could taste that fledgling sex, as rich as the chocolate rolling luxuriously in his mouth right now. He knew just how that sweet unmarred body would feel against him as he milked those eager hormones for every drop of pleasure the boy could stand. Grateful, joyful, ecstatic and uncensored, his angel-faced devil would cry out in surprise and delight again and again.
His head spun in anticipating how to teach that soft, wet mouth to go down on him as it wanted so wantonly to do. Those already man-sized but still delicate hands would soon have what a clasped and stroked wooden baseball bat was currently substituting for. That tight little hole, caged in mockingly pure white shorts and a mask of chastity, would soon be plundered and possessed like the insatiable whore that it was.
God, he was getting hard. He had better stop thinking about this. He knew the power a sinful tempter like this boy could have on him. He would wait. He would be patient. Just a little longer, and he could give the boy everything that he craved.
Down at the dugouts, the teams were crowded in two knots around their respective coaches. The anticipation was building with electric intensity. The umpire blew his whistle, and a roar of cheers was the crowd's reply, raucous in its enthusiasm for America's favorite pastime.
Blond hair flashed in the sun as number 6 took off his cap and waved it in the air. His shout was lost amid the noise, but his innocent-seeming coquette of a smile made his face shine out in the crowd. Letting his half-lidded eyes fasten on that face, he crumpled the candy bar wrapper in his left fist and sucked remnants of melted chocolate slowly off his fingers.
Kenny Hutchinson didn't yet know what he was.
He was going to show him.
END.
A/N: Please let me know what you think. Feel free to be angry or disgusted (with Howie, or with me). Feel free to post anonymously, if you prefer. I honestly want to know.
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