"I beg your pardon?” Malcolm Reed almost choked on his breakfast pancakes.
Travis Mayweather just grinned and handed him a padd.
"Planetary Masturbation Month on Kelakka. Says so right there Malcolm."
And so it did, Malcolm saw. However....
"This wouldn't be like the old boomer custom of throwing pudding at your superior officers on Walpurgisnacht, would it?" he inquired suspiciously. It had taken weeks to get the smell of chocolate out of his hair.
"Hell, Malcolm, I couldn't make this stuff up." Travis replied, "but if you don't believe me.... Hey, Hoshi!"
"Yes?" Hoshi paused on her way out of the mess hall.
"Did you know the Kelakkans are celebrating Planetary Masturbation Month?"
The linguist snorted. "Yeah. And this is different from the rest of the year how exactly?"
"Someone's not getting any..." Travis teased. Hoshi punched him lightly on the arm and continued on her way.
Travis turned back to Malcolm. "See?"
"Hmm. Well, I suppose it could explain why Commander Tucker's been such a wanker lately..."
And that had really been a stupid thing to say, hadn't it? Not only had he spoken disrespectfully to a junior officer about a senior one, but the accompanying mental image was really not one he ought to be contemplating in a public place. No, not at all.
Picturing Trip Tucker in his blues was bad enough. But to imagine him sliding them down, exposing an impressively proportioned cock (not that Malcolm had seen it of course, but they'd been in decon together enough for him to get a pretty good idea, and no, he really oughtn't to be thinking about that either....), and to think about him stroking himself slowly, fondling his balls, sliding a hand back behind them..... No, he really shouldn't.
And he certainly shouldn't be imagining the strokes getting faster in time with Trip's breathing as he neared his climax.
But most especially he shouldn't be imagining Trip calling his name as he came "Malcolm! God, Malcolm...."
"Wha... Oh sorry commander, I, was, ah, woolgathering." Malcolm wondered if his face could get any hotter without actually catching fire. How long had he been sitting here, literally staring into space? Long enough for Travis to have finished his breakfast and disappeared unnoticed anyway.
"Should have enough to knit a sweater with by now." Trip Tucker grinned down at him, the peevish mood of the last few days having apparently dissipated at last.
Malcolm managed a weak smile in response, before noting that Trip had neither a tray nor a padd with him.
"Something I can do for you, sir?" he asked.
"Well, kinda - I wanted to ask you a favour, but I think it's something you'll enjoy."
"Oh?". Malcolm took a bite of his stone-cold pancake in an effort to appear casual.
"Yeah. I've been invited to a celebration by the Kelakkans and I thought you might like to come with me."
This time Malcolm did choke.
Fortunately for him, he got the piece of pancake out of his throat before Trip had to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre, which would, he decided, just about have put the tin lid on things.
The concerned hand on his shoulder was bad enough, after all.
"You okay Malcolm? Hang on, I'll get you some water."
"Thank you." He took the proffered glass gratefully and drank it slowly, both to avoid choking again and to postpone the rest of the conversation, but only managed one out of two.
"Hey, I know I've been a bit....grumpy lately, but I didn't think you'd be that surprised that I asked you to go somewhere with me."
"And I thought you'd enjoy the Weapons Exhibition at the Science Museum - we'll have to put up with a stuffy tour guide, but apparently the primitive Kelakkans had some really unusual daggers and stuff….”
"Yeah. It's Planetary Munitions Month or somethin'. Malcolm? What's up?"
"Nothing commander." Which was a blatant lie, even now, but he wasn't about to own up to that. "I'd be happy to accompany you of course. But if you'll excuse me I just have to assign a couple of Ensigns to scrub the plasma conduits before we leave...."