Author:  Rebelcat
Rating:  Strong R (this is not one for the kiddies)
Category:  Romance, PWP, Het, Smut, PSR, Kidfic, H/f
Disclaimer:  They ain't mine!  And I'm not responsible for any confusion that may result if you didn't read this header.
Feedback/Critique:  Yes, please.  I will respond!  (Politely, even.)
Beta:  Heh.  I wrote this story for Kate (CMT), who requested "a good R-rated romance" with Dawn and Hutch.  And then I got her to beta it for me!  (Which is something like making the kids assemble their own toys on Christmas morning, I suspect...)
Notes:  This story is a tag on to my novel Postscript.  If you haven't read the novel, this won't make any sense.  You've been warned!


In His Eyes


A crying baby is the best form of birth control.  ~Carole Tabron



“Is he asleep?”

Dawn looked down at the small limp form of her son, then back up at her husband.  “I think so...” she said, cautiously.  Hutch was hovering hopefully in the doorway, as he had been off and on for the last several minutes.  His complete lack of subtlety made Dawn want to laugh.


But that would have woken up Jack.


She felt the usual unhappy tug between the sleep she so desperately needed, and the possibility of spending a few minutes in her husband’s arms.  Part of her rebelled against being needed by yet another person when really all she wanted was to lock herself alone in a room where no one would ever touch her again...  But looking at him, rumpled and appealing, his blue flannel shirt unbuttoned, the choice wasn’t hard to make.  Because he was beautiful and because he wanted her - even now, when she was feeling sticky and could smell the sour milk on her clothes.


Cautiously she began the long process of sliding out from underneath the baby.  First she had to ease him down onto the bed next to her.  His lips pursed, the tiny furrow between his eyes deepening.  Dawn froze, and eventually his expression smoothed out as he returned to sleep.  Then it was simply a matter of removing her arm without waking him.


Simple - like defusing a nuclear bomb.  Primed to explode.


“When was the last time we had sex in our own bed?” she whispered, as she joined Hutch in the doorway.


“We’re spontaneous, exciting people,” he said, closing the door.  “The bed’s too traditional for us.”


“So what will it be then?  The couch?”


“Ah, that’s too ordinary.  How about the closet?  The bathroom?  On top of the stove?”


“Ouch,” said Dawn, dryly.  “I hope you remembered to turn it off.”


“I like to live dangerously.”  Hutch wrapped his arms around her from behind.


She pressed back, leaning into him.  A flash of movement at the end of the hall caught her eye, and she realized she was looking at a mirror leaning against the wall, next to a small pile of unpacked boxes.  Have to hang that, she thought.  And finish building the new shelves.  And finally write those thank you notes...


Hutch’s hands drifted down her body to rest on her hips, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her jeans.  Dawn moved against him, feeling his interest.  The mirror reflected the movement back at her and she suddenly stopped, pulling away.


“Couch,” she said, her eyes still on the mirror.


“Why?”  His lips found the nape of her neck, and she shivered.


“I don’t like that mirror.”  Dawn scowled at it, but the mirror reflected only her crossed arms, the image cut off at her shoulders.  “All I can see is my butt.”  She twisted and glared at that portion of her anatomy.


“So?”  He sounded amused, something which did nothing to improve her mood.


“So, look at it!”


“I am.  I think it’s a fine example of a butt.”  Hutch reached around from behind and undid the snap on her jeans.


Her new jeans, which she’d had to purchase because she still couldn’t fit into any of her old pants from before the baby.  “You must be blind,” she grumbled, but her tone was mild because his hands were under her shirt now, lifting it up.


Feels nice...  Forgetting the mirror, mostly forgetting her dissatisfaction, Dawn turned and tilted her head back to meet her husband’s lips.  She kept her eyes open, wanting to see those blue eyes, the small lines in the corners, deepening as he smiled...


The unhappy yowl from the other side of the bedroom door hit her system like a bucket of cold water, utterly dousing her arousal.


“Oh, for crying out loud!”


“Baby’s awake,” said Hutch unnecessarily.


Dawn stomped back into the bedroom and glared down at her son.  He was flailing, eyes closed and face scrunched up in rage at discovering himself abandoned.  She threw herself down on the bed with none of the delicacy she had shown earlier and gathered him back into her arms.  He immediately turned towards her, his mouth open, searching.  As she lifted up her shirt and offered him her breast, she said, “You know, I don’t think I like you.”


Jack, not in the slightest put off by the tone of her voice, immediately latched on to his mother and began to nurse.


Dawn looked up and met Hutch’s gaze.  “It’s not fair!  When was the last time we got to do anything?”


The bedsprings squeaked as Hutch sat down.   “Two days ago...?  In the bathroom?”  He reached out and ran his forefinger along the sole of Jack’s foot.  The small pink toes first spread, then curled in tight.


“I don’t mean grabbing five minutes so you can get your rocks off!”  Dawn stopped abruptly, seeing Hutch’s eyes narrow.  She didn’t want to start a fight.  “It’s just... it’s been so long since we’ve made love like we used to.”


As if echoing her dissatisfaction, Jack pulled away and began to fuss.  Hutch said nothing, but Dawn thought he looked more thoughtful than angry.


“He does it on purpose,” Dawn said, as she tried to get Jack settled again.  “He’s afraid that if we have sex, we’ll end up having another baby.  But another baby would be competition, so he’s got to keep that from happening.  It’s all some kind of diabolical plot, I’m sure of it.”


“Give him to me,” said Hutch, suddenly.


“Why?” asked Dawn, as she willingly handed the small protesting bundle over to his father.


Hutch wrapped both hands around Jack’s chest and held him up until they were eye to eye.  You need to visit your Uncle Starsky.”


“Ahg!” said Jack, emphatically.  He followed that statement up with, “Eee!” and did his best to kick Hutch in the nose.


“It’s almost midnight!” said Dawn.  “They probably aren’t even up.”


“Starsky won’t mind,” said Hutch confidently.  He tucked Jack into crook of his elbow, as if he was nothing more than a football with a few extra appendages, and left the room.


Dawn threw herself back down on the bed with a sigh, half exasperation, half relief.  Starsky probably would mind being woken up in the middle of the night to have Jack dumped on him.  But Hutch was right about one thing - he wouldn’t say no.


And that meant...


Dawn smiled, feeling warm anticipation build inside.  It meant maybe as much as an hour alone with her husband.  What luxury!  The only thing better would be a full night’s sleep, but she’d long since given up on that particular fantasy.


She was drifting, half asleep by the time Hutch returned.  She was vaguely aware of the front door opening.  Then time telescoped strangely and the next thing she knew he was kissing her forehead.


She opened her eyes to see him smiling at her.  His hair had tumbled down over his forehead and she reached up to brush one of the fine blond strands out of his eyes.


“I want to do this standing,” he said.


“But we’ve got the whole bed to ourselves!” protested Dawn.  “How often does that happen?”


“Just trust me.  I’ve got a plan.”  His grin was endearingly boyish, and she found herself allowing him to pull her up onto her feet.  She balked when she realized that he was trying to pull her out into the hall.


“What are you doing?” asked Dawn.


“I want to do this standing up.”


Dawn looked around and realized that the mirror had been moved.  It was closer now, leaning against the wall opposite their bedroom door.  “Oh, no!”




She thought about protesting.  If she really wanted she could easily insist they move back into the bedroom.  But he was kissing the nape of her neck right now, and his breath was warm against her skin.  She didn’t want him to stop, not yet.


It was just that she’d imagined a leisurely lovemaking session in the bed, something sweet and sleepy and loving...  Not this.  In the hall.  In front of that damned mirror.


“Now,” said Hutch, “You’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”  He reached under her shirt, trying to find the clasp to her nursing bra.


“So are you!”  Her irritation combined with a helpless sense of surging desire to make her voice sharper than she intended.


He remained unruffled.  “But I can get out of mine faster than you can get out of yours.”


Dawn pulled away.  “Prove it.”  If she wasn’t going to get the bed, then there was no reason to drag this out.  Want him.  Now.


Hutch gave her a quick confident grin.  With a shrug his shirt fell off his shoulders, and he let it hang at his waist as he efficiently undid his belt and zipper.  She froze, her hands still on her shirt, caught by the sight of his chest, the muscles moving beneath the skin of his stomach, and the single curl of golden hair caught just at the waistband of his underpants, promising so much more…


By the time Dawn remembered to breathe again, she had thoroughly lost the contest.


Dawn reasoned that it made sense - she was distracted by his attractively muscular physique  whereas he’d obviously suffered no such impediment looking at her.


Hutch stepped out of his pants and kicked them to the side.  “You’re still wearing too many clothes,” he said, as he reached forward to lift her shirt over her head.


When she could see again, she glanced at the mirror.  From this angle she could see only Hutch, and he was lovely.  The lean line of his thighs, the taut muscular curve of his rear, and that indented place on his hip just right for the palm of her hand…  He dropped down onto his haunches and began working her jeans down over her hips, and her hand landed on his head instead.  She wove her fingers into the fine blond hair, appreciating the feel of it between her fingers.


But that change in position had brought herself back into uncompromisingly plain view and Dawn was suddenly struck by the contrast.  She pulled her hand back.


He didn’t notice.  Hutch stood and moved behind her, happily occupying himself with trying to unhook her bra. “This thing must have taken a team of engineers a full year to construct.  Using space age technology.  If I had known breasts came in size G...”


Dawn looked down at the objects under discussion.  She scowled unhappily.  “I think I’m only an E on this side,” she said, indicating the breast from which Jack had just been feeding.  Her nipples were darker than they used to be and they protruded further, no longer the neat little nubs they’d once been before the baby.  “I hate this mirror!”


Hutch dropped the bra and cupped her breasts.  Dawn closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his hands.  He dragged the rough pad of his thumb gently across and she shivered.  She thought about never opening her eyes again, just existing in this place, here and now… But then she felt him rest his chin lightly on her shoulder and she knew he was looking into the mirror.


“Why?” asked Hutch.


Misery stabbed all the sharper, in stark contrast to what she wanted so badly.  Dawn pulled away.  “Just look at me!”  Fat, lumpish body... she felt like a slug next to him, so lean and golden-blond.


“I am,” he said, pulling her back against him.  She could feel his arousal, but his voice was calm, measured.  “I see a beautiful woman...”  His hands folded over her belly and she cringed inside, painfully aware of how soft it was.


“You’re nuts,” said Dawn.  The mirror cut off her head and shoulders, framing her body from her overly heavy breasts down to her feet.  The center of the picture was dominated by her stomach and thighs.  His hands were white against her brown skin, a stark contrast.


“I like this view.  Look...”  He pressed himself against her, his hands sliding down to touch her thighs.  His fingers spread, mirroring the stretch marks.


Dawn’s hips moved in unconscious response, and she made a soft sound deep in her throat. So close…  She wanted more.  But her image was still there, in the mirror, taunting her.


Dawn tried to pull his hands away, but Hutch resisted, saying, “No, look.  They’re like rivers.  Pouring silver over some brown desert land...”


“It’s stretch marks and dry skin,” said Dawn.


“A fertility goddess,” said Hutch.


Dawn could smell his arousal now, the scent heavy in his quickening breath. “You’re insane!”


“And you are an extraordinarily gorgeous woman.  Your belly button...”


“No, not my belly button!”  Dawn tried to cover that wrinkled little accessory with both hands.


Hutch caught both her wrists in one broad hand and pulled them back up against her chest.  Having trapped her for the moment he then licked his finger and traced it around her navel, dipping inside.  Cold traces on heated skin...


Hutch said, “Your belly button used to be smaller, and straight up and down.  Now it’s lying sideways, like a lock that’s been turned.  It’s a reminder of the precious life you carried...”


Oh my god.  Where do you get this crap from?”


Dawn felt his laughter rumble against her back, shaking her.  Then his hand left her belly to cover her mouth.  “No more talking,” he said, sternly.  “You’re going to stand there, look at yourself, and listen to me.”


“Or what?” she said, muffled behind his hand.


“I do have my cuffs.  Don’t make me use them,” he warned her.


Dawn opened her lips and pulled his index finger into her mouth.  She sucked on it and felt him take a sharp breath.  I have my ways, too, she thought, smugly.


He pulled his hand away from her mouth and trailed damp fingers down her neck.  “I love the shape of you,” he said.  “Top and bottom, belly and breasts, all of you.”  His hands slid down below her stomach, and she tilted her hips forward, feeling warmth build deep inside.  “I think you’re the sexiest woman...”


He thinks I’m sexy?  Dawn had no time to wonder, because at that moment she felt Hutch’s teeth nip her shoulder, sharp and precise, the tiny pain throwing the pleasure she felt into sudden relief.  She gasped and arched back against him, seeing her breasts lift, heavy and full.  She searched the mirror for him, but she couldn’t see much.  He framed her with his arms and legs, knees bent, just a glimpse of pale skin.


Reaching down, she guided him into herself, rocking back into his embrace.  She was completely dependant on him now, her hands wrapped tightly around his wrists, hanging on as he held her upright.  Dawn looked into the mirror as Hutch began to move inside of her.  It was disconcerting.  She felt an odd sensation of dislocation, but her body knew what to do and within a few moments they were moving together, in synch.


She couldn’t take her eyes off of the mirror.  She didn’t recognize this new vision of herself, seeing a stranger move with erotic grace and beauty.  She had a sensation of being both observer and participant, inside and outside of herself at the same time.  Waves of sensation built inexorably to a peak, reflected by the images in the glass.  Dawn cried out, and heard Hutch groan at the same time, and for a brief moment she didn’t see anything at all.


Then she was back and they were still standing in front of the mirror, no longer moving.  She could feel herself trembling, and his chest felt damp and sweaty against her back.  Just a moment’s pause, then Hutch was twisting, still holding onto her, still inside her, but obviously looking for something.  “Have you seen the towel?”


The utter ordinariness of it all made her laugh.  “It’s on the bed.”


He stilled.  “We’re going to make a mess.”


She felt him slide out of her then, a small sense of loss followed by a feeling of dampness down the inside of her thigh.  “I think we already have,” she said.


A shock of tousled blond hair appeared briefly in the mirror as he bent down to look at the floor.  “Oh well, this place needs a good mopping anyway.”  He straightened, stopping briefly to kiss her cheek on the way.  “Happy now?”


Dawn half turned to catch Hutch’s lips.  One light kiss, then she looked back at her image in the mirror.  For a moment, she saw two different images.  The out of shape, overtired mother, yes… but laid over that unpleasant reality was the vision she’d glimpsed for just a moment, when he’d moved inside of her.  Maybe...  That body could be considered lush, instead of fat, couldn’t it?  And wasn’t an hourglass shape supposed to be considered desirable?


“I’ve changed my mind,” said Dawn.




“This is my new favorite mirror.”


She heard him chuckle.  He said, “I know someone who used to have one installed above his bed.”


“I can guess who.”  Dawn rolled her eyes.


“Hey,” protested Hutch.  “Don’t speak ill of the man who’s agreed to look after our baby for the entire night!”


“All night?”  Dawn wasn’t sure she’d heard that right.


“He promised me we’d not see hide or hair of the kid until 9am tomorrow morning.”


Dawn wasn’t the kind of woman who would squeal with joy, but right then she came as close as she ever had in her life.  “A full night’s sleep?”  In that moment she took back every nasty thing she’d ever thought or said about Starsky.


“An uninterrupted dinner,” said Hutch, looking very pleased with himself.


“And maybe...”  She glanced at herself in the mirror again.


He took her into his arms.  “Definitely a maybe.  Lots of maybes.  At least three or four times before breakfast tomorrow.”  He paused, and added.  “Beautiful lady.”


She could feel something stirring inside even now, as she tilted her head back for another kiss. Reflected in Hutch’s eyes, she could see that other image of herself.  The sexy, desirable one who had moved in the mirror for those few brief minutes, locked in his embrace.  And for the first time...


Dawn believed him.



~the end~