"No, really, Malcolm, come take a look."

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Malcolm pushed his way through the crowd to Trip's side in order to view the vendor's table. Displayed on it were a number of small, primitive-looking statues, rough representations of male figures with very large, very prominent erections.

"Reminds me of you," commented Malcolm dryly.

Trip leaned in to murmur in his ear. "Can't help it, darlin', that's the way you make me feel."

Malcolm could feel Trip's mouth against his hair, the hand snaking around his waist, reaching under his damp shirt. He leaned against Trip, enjoying the contact. Malcolm felt a little thrill in being able to acknowledge his relationship with Trip in a public place, something they would never do in uniform, or on the Enterprise. Not that it was a big secret to any of the crew at this point.

"So you're not going to buy one?" Trip teased.

Malcolm snorted. Then a pair of strange, tentacled aliens slithered in front of them to get at the table, blocking their view. He and Trip stared at the creatures for a moment, then moved on, continuing their exploration of the crowded marketplace.

"Don't think I've seen so many aliens in one place before," Trip said, turning as he took in the size of the crowd. "Pardon me," he muttered as yet another alien jostled him.

Malcolm could detect a note of irritation in Trip's voice. They were both glad to have these few hours of shore leave, but the marketplace was hot and jammed with an astonishing number of aliens. Malcolm could feel sweat trickling down his chest as the hazy sunshine warmed the humid air. There was not a breeze to be had, and the meager trees lining the street did not provide much shade. One look at Trip's flushed face told him the man was feeling the effects of the heat also, despite the light, loose cotton pants and shirts he was wearing. Malcolm was also hot, sticky and tired, despite the light clothing.

They found themselves pushed off the main thoroughfare, forced over to one side of the street. A large barrel, filled with small bottles and chunks of ice sparkling in the sunlight, blocked their path. Malcolm seized a piece of ice, pressing it to the back of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as cold ice met hot skin. Malcolm swore he could hear a sizzling sound. A trickle of frigid water ran down his back. It felt wonderful.

He noted Trip was watching him, eyebrows raised. Malcolm picked up more ice with his free hand and stepped closer. He reached around Trip's neck and rubbed the ice along the nape of Trip's neck.

"Better?" Malcolm asked. He was close enough to feel the heat radiating from Trip's body, close enough to see the beads of sweat on Trip's face. He had a sudden urge to lick them off.

Trip shook his head. "Not unless you drop some down my pants."

Malcolm rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. But he moved the ice he was holding against his own neck and slid it up under the front of Trip's shirt. Trip made no move to stop him; he simply closed his eyes and smiled. Malcolm traced a wet line across Trip's flat stomach, feeling Trip's body shudder under his hands. Enjoying the reaction, Malcolm slid the ice further up under his lover's shirt at a leisurely pace. He found his way to a nipple and pressed the ice against it. Trip responded sharply to the sensation, his eyes flying open, body jerking backward. Both pieces of ice slipped from Malcolm's hands and tumbled to the ground.

Disappointment flashed across Trip's face. He reached into the barrel and picked up another chunk of ice and handed it to Malcolm. "I'll hold still this time," he promised earnestly.

Malcolm sighed with delight. "I adore you." He took the ice and slipped his hand back under Trip's shirt. Trip merely grinned as he rubbed against Malcolm, his body's reaction to Malcolm's touch apparent.

"So those statues *were* modeled after you," said Malcolm, although he realized he was beginning to resemble one himself. He nestled one hand in the small of Trip's back as the other made a slow, wet journey with the ice across Trip's chest. Trip leaned his forehead against Malcolm's and let out a small moan. Malcolm's groin ached at the sound.

Malcolm wondered how Trip always managed to do this to him—make him forget that the rest of the universe existed. He had always considered himself very proper, always behaving with decorum in public. And now, here he was, his hand under Trip's shirt, touching him intimately, with crowds of aliens moving all around them. Yet a swift glance confirmed the aliens were intent on their business, not giving them a second look.

Malcolm tilted his head and brushed his lips against Trip's in a brief kiss, their erections touching each other as he did so.

"Too bad there isn't anyplace private we can go," murmured Trip, his eyes locked on Malcolm's.

"Too bad indeed." Malcolm stroked Trip's stomach with the ice, and feeling the muscles quiver beneath his hand. Then in one swift move, he slid the ice further south, tugged at the waistband of Trip's pants, and pushed the ice into Trip's briefs.

"Hey!" Trip shouted as he jumped back from Malcolm. He slammed into a burly, green-skinned alien, knocking several parcels from the alien's grip. "Sorry, I—"

Malcolm thoroughly enjoyed the sight of Trip trying to retrieve the ice from his shorts as discreetly as possible while apologizing to the annoyed alien. Taking pity on him, Malcolm picked up the scattered parcels, handed them back to the green-skinned alien, and sent him off. "Terribly sorry, sir. We really can't take him anywhere without creating an interplanetary incident," he called after the man.

Malcolm didn't think the UT translated his statement, since the alien merely grunted, clutched his packages, and trotted off, throwing a wary glance behind him to make sure they weren't following. Then Malcolm turned to see Trip shaking his leg, and the offending chunk of ice fell out. "Now, Trip, it was your suggestion in the first place," he said.

Trip laughed. "I've really got to watch what I say around you." He lifted up the hem of his shirt to wipe his sweaty face, treating Malcolm to the sight of his stomach and very appealing navel. Revenge, and Malcolm knew it. Malcolm was still staring when Trip tugged his shirt back down. Their eyes met, and Trip wagged his eyebrows at Malcolm.

"Come on," said Malcolm, gazing out across the marketplace. "Let's go find something to distract ourselves with until the shuttlepod returns."

They walked further along the marketplace, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells, until they came upon a small crowd facing a platform. On the platform was a band of sorts, with instruments Malcolm did not recognize. As he watched, they began to play, the music exotic and sinuous. Trip stood behind him, his hands on Malcolm's upper arms, stroking them lightly. The rhythm was mesmerizing. Trip's body was warm and undulated gently against his. Malcolm could feel Trip's hard-on sliding against his ass. He was hot, sweaty, and getting very uncomfortable. He wanted to be in his quarters, in the shower, under a cool stream of water with Trip. With Trip on his knees, running his tongue along—

Trip tapped his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. "I gotta visit the little boy's room—what do you think, could that be it?"

Malcolm turned to see where Trip was pointing. They approached the low, white building. The iconic signs hanging above the door were difficult to interpret.

"Could be," Malcolm replied, shrugging. "One way to find out." They entered. It was cool and dark, a relief after the fierce sunlight. There were a few aliens present, and a cautious glance confirmed that they were indeed in the right place. Malcolm tried not to stare at what he had initially thought was a three-legged alien.

Then Malcolm caught an image of himself in the mirror, his hair rumpled and damp, curling with the humidity, his shirt stained with sweat. He frowned at the image—so very untidy. He tried to decide which of the odd structures might be a sink so he could wash up. As he looked about, he saw Trip pushing a door open and tentatively peering into a stall. Noticing that the room was momentarily empty, he impulsively darted over, pushed Trip into the stall, and closed the door behind them. He growled as he wrapped his arms around the startled man and kissed him soundly. Trip recovered quickly from his initial surprise and lunged against Malcolm's mouth, kissing him hard in return.

It was only intended to be a kiss, Malcolm told himself, nothing more. Belatedly he realized that he had very much underestimated the appeal of a hot, sweaty Trip squirming against his body, kissing him with the desperation of a drowning man gasping for air. They clung to each other, tongues entwining, exploring each other's mouths. Then Malcolm needed more, needed to have his mouth on Trip's hot skin, to taste him. He went for Trip's neck, licking, sucking, enjoying the saltiness and the underlying taste of the man himself. He heard Trip moan, felt the hands on his ass, the hard erection pressing into his hip.

Malcolm released Trip and silently indicated that he should climb onto the commode. Trip stared at him blankly. As Malcolm's fingers reached for the fastening on Trip's pants, Trip caught on, and he stepped up onto the edge, laughing. "Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?" he whispered loudly. He braced himself with his arms up against the sides of the stall.

"Shhhh." The outside world returned again as Malcolm heard alien voices in the room, the strange music filtering in from outside. He finished unzipping Trip's pants, freeing the hot, engorged cock, now conveniently at face level. He licked the tip, then in one move sucked the length of it into his mouth, the taste sharp and salty.

"Oh, god, Malcolm," Trip gasped. His foot slipped, and he banged his arm against the side wall as he caught himself from falling.

"Shhhh," repeated Malcolm, grabbing Trip by the hips, trying to hold him steady, so Trip could find his balance. He could hear feet shuffling in the stall next to them. And wondered what the penalties were on this planet for engaging in sex in a public restroom. Oddly enough, that particular piece of information hadn't been listed in the Vulcan database.

Once he was certain Trip had regained his footing, Malcolm went back to work on Trip's cock, running his tongue along the sensitive underside, then pulling back to lick the swollen head. Trip thrust forward, murmuring breathlessly, words too soft for Malcolm to hear. The desperate sound excited him, and his pants tented around his erection as he sucked Trip's cock deep into his mouth, feeling it swell even larger, feeling the blood rushing through the large vein. Trip's ragged breathing made it clear he was near the edge. His own cock throbbing in response, Malcolm slipped a finger into his own mouth, wetting it, and reached around to Trip's ass. He found the sweet, puckered opening and pushed his finger partially in. Trip immediately bucked his hips, pushing into the back of Malcolm's mouth. With a quiet, strangled noise Trip spasmed and came, filling Malcolm's mouth with hot liquid. Malcolm sucked hard, swallowing as fast as he could. When Trip was finished Malcolm released the still-twitching cock, nuzzling Trip's stomach as he pulled Trip's briefs and pants back up. Trip let out a small noise as the cloth touched his sensitized penis.

Trip shakily stepped down from his perch, Malcolm supporting him. He leaned into Malcolm's arms, kissed him sloppily, and slithered down further to sit on the commode, panting. He pulled Malcolm to him, still kissing his face. Malcolm fumbled with his own pants as he sat on Trip's lap, straddling him, freeing his cock, needing desperately to be touched. He pushed his shirt up, eagerly exposing as much skin as possible for his lover to touch.

Trip responded by running both hands over Malcolm's chest, pausing to toy with a nipple, rubbing it with his thumb. Malcolm shut his eyes and leaned forward into the touch, into his lover's hands. He could hear a number of aliens in the room now, chattering as the walked past. His heart thumped in his chest as one of them tapped on the door. They looked at each other, uncertain of what to do next, but the creature moved on. Trip continued stroking, down Malcolm's side, across his stomach, then lower, until his hand, slick with sweat, was around Malcolm's cock. Malcolm whimpered at the touch.

"Shhhhh," scolded Trip as he began to pump Malcolm's cock firmly.

Malcolm tried to stay silent, kissing Trip's face frantically, bunching handfuls of Trip's shirt in his fists. He was beyond thinking, beyond caring. Now it was only the pleasure of Trip touching him, the all-encompassing need for Trip to bring him to his release. Malcolm thrust into his hand, trying to increase the pace, face pressed against Trip's, mouth open against his lover's cheek, panting furiously. With steady strokes Trip brought him closer and closer, and then with a bright, white flash, the orgasm exploded through Malcolm's body, the waves of pleasure shaking him to the core. When the tremors finally ceased he collapsed limply against Trip's chest, head resting on his shoulder.

"Hey," Trip whispered in Malcolm's ear after a few minutes. He stroked Malcolm's back. "You goin' to sleep now?" He sounded amused.

With a guilty start, Malcolm raised his head. Had he dozed? He blinked at Trip. Then he noticed with some dismay that he had torn a small section of Trip's shirt along the seam, presumably while he was tugging at it. "Sorry," he said, plucking at it. "I seem to have damaged your shirt."

Trip pulled his face close and kissed him, a sweet, gentle kiss. "Quite all right. I like having you tearin' at my clothes." His whisper was deep and husky. They nuzzled each other, both relaxed, sated.

The stall door next to them slammed, and they both started guiltily. Malcolm wondered how long had the neighboring stall been occupied. He backed off Trip's lap, and opened the door a crack. He peered about the room, and slipped out when the moment presented itself. He was washing up at what he hoped was a sink when Trip emerged, looking deliciously rumpled and flushed. He leaned against the wall, watching, as Trip tried to clean up. He presented himself to Malcolm for inspection.

"Nice try, but you still look like you were just fucked," Malcolm told him. "And you should really try to wash that," he pointed to a spattered stain, "off of your shirt."

After a few minutes of further cleaning, they left the cool dark interior to emerge into the sunlight, Malcolm tugged on Trip's sleeve. "Come on, let's head back this way."

"Why? We just came from there." But Trip followed him, curious.

"Well, I think I do want one of those statues after all."