Fic: Broken - R/L - PG
Title: Broken
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, Grant/Naylor does. I make no money from this.
Spoilers: Marooned, and if you want to get technical, Thanks for the Memory.
Notes: I started writing this for the International Interfandom Day Of Making Out challenge, but... erm... I was too slow. So I re-worked it into this. Silly little thing, feedback welcome as always. Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Kissing people used to be easy. Lister couldn't remember how old he was the first time he felt that irresistible tug of lips towards lips, but it was long before that ill-fated night with Michelle Fisher on the Bootle Municipal golf course. He couldn't even remember her name, but he could remember her face, and what she smelled like. Raspberries; tart and fresh and sharp, like summer. She tasted like them too, and it had been warm, and sunny, and kissing her had been the easiest thing in the world, though he'd never done it before.
The second time was just as simple, though not quite as pleasant. Vanessa Johnson nearly threw herself at him in the corridor outside the library. She was two years older than him and had braces that scratched at his lips and made his gums bleed. His mouth tasted like iron for the rest of the day - he brushed like a maniac when he finally got home. He'd been afraid to go to the library ever since, and had tried to keep away from books as a general rule.
He was so in love with Sarah Patel he didn't know what to do with himself most of the time. When she actually came on to him, he was reduced to a wreck of gibbering idiocy, yet lips somehow managed to find lips, even in the darkness of the abandoned girl's locker room after school. Even when her tongue sneaked its way into his mouth, he caught on quickly, and was surprised to hear her gasp in her own surprise when she felt what he could do with his. Lister had, he was soon to realize, a talent for these things.
Michelle was something special. Even if they hadn't taken their clothes off and rolled around together naked in the bunker behind the green, he would have still remembered her smell, and the soft feel of her skin as she held him close that first time they kissed. As for what happened in that bunker, well... you could call it sex, if you were a charitable sort of person. Things got inserted into other things, and it was all terribly exciting, at least for Lister, but it didn't last very long. Still, there had been an ease to it, even as they'd struggled and huffed and bumped knees into groins. A calm, gentle, guilt-free sort of ease. There always was, when David Lister, as a poet might put it, sampled the delights of a woman. It seemed to him though, that they sampled at least as much of him in turn.
Yes, it was easy with all of them. Names and faces blurring together, though he remembered them all, every single one of them. A few stood out; Kari, Isabel, Yuri, Lise. Kris. Oh, getting to the point where the kissing could start happening was bloody hard, but then again, that was part of the fun. And they always got there in the end. Well, the game wouldn't be fun otherwise, would it? When he finally got to that point with Kris, he felt like his whole body was curling up inside itself; all his senses focusing on his mouth, his nerves working overtime transmitting signals to his brain. Lips were never that red, eyes were never that green; he found himself unable to think in anything but clichés as their faces moved closer, just about to touch, and then... well, then it was easy.
Easy, easy, easy. Never hard. He was good at this. It was a skill. So why, when he got close to Arnold Judas Rimmer, when their eyes met across a table, over a console, in the dark halls of a derelict, did everything from his words to his legs to his basic motor skills betray him; make him turn away? He was broken. And the only one who could fix him was the man who had broken him in the first place.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, Grant/Naylor does. I make no money from this.
Spoilers: Marooned, and if you want to get technical, Thanks for the Memory.
Notes: I started writing this for the International Interfandom Day Of Making Out challenge, but... erm... I was too slow. So I re-worked it into this. Silly little thing, feedback welcome as always. Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Kissing people used to be easy. Lister couldn't remember how old he was the first time he felt that irresistible tug of lips towards lips, but it was long before that ill-fated night with Michelle Fisher on the Bootle Municipal golf course. He couldn't even remember her name, but he could remember her face, and what she smelled like. Raspberries; tart and fresh and sharp, like summer. She tasted like them too, and it had been warm, and sunny, and kissing her had been the easiest thing in the world, though he'd never done it before.
The second time was just as simple, though not quite as pleasant. Vanessa Johnson nearly threw herself at him in the corridor outside the library. She was two years older than him and had braces that scratched at his lips and made his gums bleed. His mouth tasted like iron for the rest of the day - he brushed like a maniac when he finally got home. He'd been afraid to go to the library ever since, and had tried to keep away from books as a general rule.
He was so in love with Sarah Patel he didn't know what to do with himself most of the time. When she actually came on to him, he was reduced to a wreck of gibbering idiocy, yet lips somehow managed to find lips, even in the darkness of the abandoned girl's locker room after school. Even when her tongue sneaked its way into his mouth, he caught on quickly, and was surprised to hear her gasp in her own surprise when she felt what he could do with his. Lister had, he was soon to realize, a talent for these things.
Michelle was something special. Even if they hadn't taken their clothes off and rolled around together naked in the bunker behind the green, he would have still remembered her smell, and the soft feel of her skin as she held him close that first time they kissed. As for what happened in that bunker, well... you could call it sex, if you were a charitable sort of person. Things got inserted into other things, and it was all terribly exciting, at least for Lister, but it didn't last very long. Still, there had been an ease to it, even as they'd struggled and huffed and bumped knees into groins. A calm, gentle, guilt-free sort of ease. There always was, when David Lister, as a poet might put it, sampled the delights of a woman. It seemed to him though, that they sampled at least as much of him in turn.
Yes, it was easy with all of them. Names and faces blurring together, though he remembered them all, every single one of them. A few stood out; Kari, Isabel, Yuri, Lise. Kris. Oh, getting to the point where the kissing could start happening was bloody hard, but then again, that was part of the fun. And they always got there in the end. Well, the game wouldn't be fun otherwise, would it? When he finally got to that point with Kris, he felt like his whole body was curling up inside itself; all his senses focusing on his mouth, his nerves working overtime transmitting signals to his brain. Lips were never that red, eyes were never that green; he found himself unable to think in anything but clichés as their faces moved closer, just about to touch, and then... well, then it was easy.
Easy, easy, easy. Never hard. He was good at this. It was a skill. So why, when he got close to Arnold Judas Rimmer, when their eyes met across a table, over a console, in the dark halls of a derelict, did everything from his words to his legs to his basic motor skills betray him; make him turn away? He was broken. And the only one who could fix him was the man who had broken him in the first place.