The BLTS Archive - Old Standbys
by miera (mierac72@yahoo.com)

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Archive: Ask first

Date: May 4, 2003

Feedback: Makes me all happy and squirmy.

Author's Notes: In honor of May being National Masturbation Month, I
just thought I'd get the ball rolling. So to speak. Fits in with my
other stories although there's no direct connection.

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Trip sat down at his desk, opening the latest round of messages while
he unzipped his uniform. No letters from home this time,
unfortunately. His parents were on vacation in the Mediterranean and
his brother was notoriously lax about writing. His mail consisted of a
short note from Dave, his college roommate, and a few engineering
newsletters.

He sighed, turning the screen off, and leaned back in his chair. He
felt restless. The past few days had been busy. What else was new?
Well, busier than usual. But he was off duty for a solid 12 hours now.
He wasn't sleepy, or really hungry yet. He didn't feel like reading,
or watching anything.

He realized what was bugging him. Given his schedule, the past few
days he had fallen into bed hard every night and been asleep in
minutes. Maybe he should take some. . . personal. . . time.

Stripping out of his uniform and his tshirt, he stretched out on the
bed. His hand began to run over his chest slowly, carelessly. Relaxing
into the mattress, he let his mind wander. There were half a dozen
fantasies he used while masturbating that he knew would get the job
done. Some were pure fantasy, some were based on memories. As his hand
slid south, stroking over the growing hardness in his groin, he ran
through "the old standbys" as he called them.

He thought about his college days and a memory clicked, bringing him
to full arousal in a few heartbeats. Tia. Although they hadn't been
together all that long, she stood out. She had given him, as he had
told her, all of the best blowjobs of his life.

He discarded his shorts quickly and braced his feet on the bed. His
hand began to work on his erection in earnest, stroking purposefully
up and down, fingers squeezing slightly at the tip. He recalled the
sight of Tia, kneeling between his legs, her powerful mouth sucking
the length of his cock. Sweat broke out over his body and he sank
deeper into the mattress.

The movement of his hand became easier, thanks to the sweat and the
bit of precum that had leaked out. His hips began to thrash just a
little, remembering the hot mouth on his skin, and a hand sneaking
under to caress his balls.

His other arm, stretched above his head, reached out and his hand
grabbed hold of the pillow. The thought of thrusting his cock into
that mouth made him begin to tremble. Imagining Malcolm on his knees—

WHAT?

He froze, eyes popping open in sudden panic, heartbeat pounding in his
ears. He was alone in his quarters, jerking off, thinking
about. . . Malcolm?

Holy.

Shit.

Thinking about Malcolm.

Malcolm going down on him. Using his mouth and his hands on Trip's
body.

His cock twitched at the thought. Lost in the heat haze of his
fantasy, Trip's hand went back to work. Images came faster now, of a
small, dark head between his legs, and long, thin, male fingers
rubbing the skin up behind his balls, stroking his ass.

His hips bucked off the bed, and the mere notion of Malcolm's tongue
stroking the tip of his cock made Trip come hard. He gulped, panting
and moaning under his breath, his body quivering as the orgasm shot
through him.

His hand stilled, and his body fell into the bed. His other hand
released the pillow and ached momentarily from being clenched so
tightly. He lay, not thinking for a few minutes, waiting for his heart
to slow. He shivered suddenly as the air turned cold against his damp
skin, and groped for a blanket.

He rested his left arm over his eyes, his face flushing, not from
arousal or afterglow, but embarrassment. He had had fantasies about
some of his female crewmates, although he did his best to restrain
himself from doing it. He believed that as long as he didn't allow
those occasional daydreams to affect his treatment of the person, it
was alright. From some of the flirtatious looks he'd gotten, he
half-suspected that he had been featured in a few fantasies himself.
But nothing inappropriate had ever happened, so he was okay with that.
Hell, it aroused him a bit, to be honest.

So why did he feel so guilty now? Would Malcolm be angry, if he knew?
God, please don't ever let him find out, he prayed fervently. He'd be
embarrassed, Trip was sure. And probably offended.

Maybe it was just the novelty that got me off so fast, he thought to
himself. He couldn't deny the experience had been intense, but he'd
been so busy the past week. It was bound to be intense after a few
days of abstaining. And it was no real surprise, given that more than
two-thirds of the crew was male, that he would. . . well, would.

Except that he was pretty certain he'd never fantasized about a man
before. He liked women. The softness, the curves, all of it, his whole
life, women had been what turned him on. And even given that, he could
say objectively some of the male members of the crew were very good
looking. Travis could win a ship-wide beauty contest easily. But it
hadn't been Travis he'd just been thinking about. He wasn't into men,
period.

But then, he'd never met anyone, male or female, like Malcolm. No one
else in the universe could get him angry so fast.

Or horny, apparently.

He groaned, rolling over onto his side and burying his head in the
pillow.

Maybe he should stay off the Bridge tomorrow. Just in case.

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The End