Fic: New Years - L/Koch, R/L (imp)
Title: New Years
Pairing: Lister/Kochanski, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Despite my wishes to the contrary, I don't own Red Dwarf. I don't make money from this either.
Spoilers: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers.
Notes: Set between Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers and Better Than Life. That'd be the books, in case you were wondering. ;) Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
All was quiet in the little house on the outskirts of the fictional town of Bedford Falls, where just for once, it wasn't Christmas Eve. It was very, very early on Christmas Morning, and Lister was sitting up in bed, biting his already painfully short nails.
He had come back. Why had he come back?
He looked over at Kris, sleeping soundly next to him. Had he come back for her? She was beautiful, even in her sleep, but she wasn't real. He knew that. None of this was. Reality was him and Rimmer and the Cat, lost in an AR game engineered to make them not want to leave. In reality, they were wasting away - the two of them that could, anyway - losing weight and breaking bones, wallowing in their own filth and grinning happily about it. Better Than Life, he thought, snorting quietly, so as not to wake his wife. Wasn't that ironic? Once you'd been in the game long enough, the reality you had to go back to got less and less appealing. Maybe it wasn't ironic, he thought. He didn't know about these things. Kryten would know, but Kryten wasn't here. Kryten had managed to imagine an exit and get himself out of there. Lister should too. No matter how bad things were back in real life, it beat dying, didn't it?
So why was he still here?
Stirring in her sleep, Kris tried to snuggle closer to a sleeping form that wasn't there. Lister quickly slid back down under the covers, but it was too late. Slowly, her eyes opened.
“Can't sleep?”
Lister shook his head. “It's all right, darlin'. Just you go back to sleep.” He knew she wouldn't do it, but he liked saying the words anyway. Just as he liked seeing her smile and shake her head in that special way that made her hair bounce around her face. She wasn't real. But somehow, right now, that didn't matter.
“Come on. Talk to me!” Wrapping her arms around him, this lovely, wonderful non-existing Kristine Kochanski leaned in close and kissed Lister's neck. He sighed. This was torture. He really, really, really shouldn't stay.
“Listen...” He wanted to push her away, but he couldn't. Instead, he lifted her face gently with one hand, and looked into that incomparable pair of green eyes. “I have to go.”
Kristine frowned. “But Dave, you just came home! And it's Christmas.”
It's always Christmas, Lister wanted to reply, but how do you tell the woman you love that she doesn't exist? “I'm sorry. It's not...” He shook his head. “Remember the friend I said I had to go see?”
“Yeah?” Kristine snuggled closer, rubbing his arm gently. She was so soft; so gentle, so perfect in every way. His cock, bastard that it was, stirred a little, and he grimaced, thinking of the countless times they had made love. What had that looked like, from the other side? Had he humped some random piece of shipboard furniture? The wall? Or even...
“He still needs my help.” She would understand that, Lister knew. Understand, and not stop him. She'd worry and argue, but she wouldn't make him not go. She was that kind of woman. He grit his teeth. What a bastard universe it was that made her be gone forever and let people like Rimmer go on. For a moment, Lister let his anger at the hologram take over, but then his mind turned to the Rimmerettes, and the cars and the jets and the media circus, and his seemingly endless need for attention that just never seemed to be satiated, and smiled. Poor smegger. “He really does,” he added, meaning it. No way would Rimmer be able to get out on his own. Not with temptation at his beck and call like that. Lister was the strong one. He could resist.
“Well...” Kristine's rubbing hand went lower, down his side, onto his thigh, and Lister's next breath came out in a shudder. Not this. If she did this to him, now, he'd never be able to leave. It'd be too fresh in his mind. He was only human, after all. The last one, at that.
“Ah, I'm...” he began, needing to end this before it went any further, “I'm tired, love. Maybe in the morning?”
Kris chuckled; a disconcerting sound in that it was so deliciously irresistible. “You just said you couldn't sleep, silly.”
Lister sighed. “Yeah, I did, at that.” He needed to think about something decidedly non-sexy. Sleeping in that locker on Mimas came easily to mind; he'd never even tried having a wank in that, and that was saying a lot, for Lister. Damp and dark and cramped. Good, but not quite there. Something about those words; they could be taken into a more interesting context. All right, he nagged at himself as Kris moved her hands closer and closer to his groin, what else did he have? He had to stall her! “I really need to go, you know.” He didn't sound the least bit convincing, even to himself.
“But not right now, surely?” Kris pursed her lips, and that didn't help at all. Lister knew only too well what else those lips were capable of.
“No, not right now; 'course not.” Petersen's dirty underwear, he thought, desperately. His nan walking in on him and Sara Patel in the broom closet. “Tomorrow. Bright and early tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Her fingernails were skirting his groin now; they weren't long, so there wasn't even that to fear; it just felt, well, altogether too distractingly good. “What's the rush? Can't it wait until after Christmas?”
Yes, it can, his cock insisted, but Lister gave it a mental slap. It was all too easy to forget what this was; to let himself fall back into that carefree pattern. The game wanted him to stay. And really, couldn't he... no! “I don't think it can,” he mumbled, swallowing.
Her hands had reached his cock now, rubbing up and down through his struggling underwear. This was no good; he needed something bad. Something really bad. As usual, when looking for examples of really bad things, Lister's thoughts went to Rimmer. Yes; perfect! As Kris's dainty fingers did their dirty work, Lister mentally replaced them with Rimmer's long, pale digits; imagined that lanky, overly groomed body jammed in next to him in bed, reeking of after-shave. When Kris pulled down his underwear with her teeth, Lister imagined Rimmer's curly head between his legs instead; thin, pale lips swallowing him whole rather than full, pink ones.
“Smeg, yes,” he cried, replacing the short, elfin body with a lean, wiry frame, square shoulders working as the figure sucked, and for a moment, the shortest of moments, Kris began to shimmer slightly, and fade; her thrilled moans growing deeper in tone, her entire form shifting, until Lister screamed, and scuttled away.
Perplexed, Kristine looked up, her face still shifting lightly between her own and Rimmer's. “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”
Panting, horrified, Lister pulled the blanket close to his chest, and tried to stop thinking. That was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He didn't have time to think. There was something... something he had to do. What was it? Oh yes. “Have'ta... have'ta leave...”
“Yes, darling,” Kristine soothed. “But surely you can wait until after New Years? That's only a week away; not even that.”
Still panic stricken, Lister could only nod. A week. What harm would another week do? Outside, dawn was coming, heralding the start of another day... and another Christmas Eve.
Pairing: Lister/Kochanski, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Despite my wishes to the contrary, I don't own Red Dwarf. I don't make money from this either.
Spoilers: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers.
Notes: Set between Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers and Better Than Life. That'd be the books, in case you were wondering. ;) Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
All was quiet in the little house on the outskirts of the fictional town of Bedford Falls, where just for once, it wasn't Christmas Eve. It was very, very early on Christmas Morning, and Lister was sitting up in bed, biting his already painfully short nails.
He had come back. Why had he come back?
He looked over at Kris, sleeping soundly next to him. Had he come back for her? She was beautiful, even in her sleep, but she wasn't real. He knew that. None of this was. Reality was him and Rimmer and the Cat, lost in an AR game engineered to make them not want to leave. In reality, they were wasting away - the two of them that could, anyway - losing weight and breaking bones, wallowing in their own filth and grinning happily about it. Better Than Life, he thought, snorting quietly, so as not to wake his wife. Wasn't that ironic? Once you'd been in the game long enough, the reality you had to go back to got less and less appealing. Maybe it wasn't ironic, he thought. He didn't know about these things. Kryten would know, but Kryten wasn't here. Kryten had managed to imagine an exit and get himself out of there. Lister should too. No matter how bad things were back in real life, it beat dying, didn't it?
So why was he still here?
Stirring in her sleep, Kris tried to snuggle closer to a sleeping form that wasn't there. Lister quickly slid back down under the covers, but it was too late. Slowly, her eyes opened.
“Can't sleep?”
Lister shook his head. “It's all right, darlin'. Just you go back to sleep.” He knew she wouldn't do it, but he liked saying the words anyway. Just as he liked seeing her smile and shake her head in that special way that made her hair bounce around her face. She wasn't real. But somehow, right now, that didn't matter.
“Come on. Talk to me!” Wrapping her arms around him, this lovely, wonderful non-existing Kristine Kochanski leaned in close and kissed Lister's neck. He sighed. This was torture. He really, really, really shouldn't stay.
“Listen...” He wanted to push her away, but he couldn't. Instead, he lifted her face gently with one hand, and looked into that incomparable pair of green eyes. “I have to go.”
Kristine frowned. “But Dave, you just came home! And it's Christmas.”
It's always Christmas, Lister wanted to reply, but how do you tell the woman you love that she doesn't exist? “I'm sorry. It's not...” He shook his head. “Remember the friend I said I had to go see?”
“Yeah?” Kristine snuggled closer, rubbing his arm gently. She was so soft; so gentle, so perfect in every way. His cock, bastard that it was, stirred a little, and he grimaced, thinking of the countless times they had made love. What had that looked like, from the other side? Had he humped some random piece of shipboard furniture? The wall? Or even...
“He still needs my help.” She would understand that, Lister knew. Understand, and not stop him. She'd worry and argue, but she wouldn't make him not go. She was that kind of woman. He grit his teeth. What a bastard universe it was that made her be gone forever and let people like Rimmer go on. For a moment, Lister let his anger at the hologram take over, but then his mind turned to the Rimmerettes, and the cars and the jets and the media circus, and his seemingly endless need for attention that just never seemed to be satiated, and smiled. Poor smegger. “He really does,” he added, meaning it. No way would Rimmer be able to get out on his own. Not with temptation at his beck and call like that. Lister was the strong one. He could resist.
“Well...” Kristine's rubbing hand went lower, down his side, onto his thigh, and Lister's next breath came out in a shudder. Not this. If she did this to him, now, he'd never be able to leave. It'd be too fresh in his mind. He was only human, after all. The last one, at that.
“Ah, I'm...” he began, needing to end this before it went any further, “I'm tired, love. Maybe in the morning?”
Kris chuckled; a disconcerting sound in that it was so deliciously irresistible. “You just said you couldn't sleep, silly.”
Lister sighed. “Yeah, I did, at that.” He needed to think about something decidedly non-sexy. Sleeping in that locker on Mimas came easily to mind; he'd never even tried having a wank in that, and that was saying a lot, for Lister. Damp and dark and cramped. Good, but not quite there. Something about those words; they could be taken into a more interesting context. All right, he nagged at himself as Kris moved her hands closer and closer to his groin, what else did he have? He had to stall her! “I really need to go, you know.” He didn't sound the least bit convincing, even to himself.
“But not right now, surely?” Kris pursed her lips, and that didn't help at all. Lister knew only too well what else those lips were capable of.
“No, not right now; 'course not.” Petersen's dirty underwear, he thought, desperately. His nan walking in on him and Sara Patel in the broom closet. “Tomorrow. Bright and early tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Her fingernails were skirting his groin now; they weren't long, so there wasn't even that to fear; it just felt, well, altogether too distractingly good. “What's the rush? Can't it wait until after Christmas?”
Yes, it can, his cock insisted, but Lister gave it a mental slap. It was all too easy to forget what this was; to let himself fall back into that carefree pattern. The game wanted him to stay. And really, couldn't he... no! “I don't think it can,” he mumbled, swallowing.
Her hands had reached his cock now, rubbing up and down through his struggling underwear. This was no good; he needed something bad. Something really bad. As usual, when looking for examples of really bad things, Lister's thoughts went to Rimmer. Yes; perfect! As Kris's dainty fingers did their dirty work, Lister mentally replaced them with Rimmer's long, pale digits; imagined that lanky, overly groomed body jammed in next to him in bed, reeking of after-shave. When Kris pulled down his underwear with her teeth, Lister imagined Rimmer's curly head between his legs instead; thin, pale lips swallowing him whole rather than full, pink ones.
“Smeg, yes,” he cried, replacing the short, elfin body with a lean, wiry frame, square shoulders working as the figure sucked, and for a moment, the shortest of moments, Kris began to shimmer slightly, and fade; her thrilled moans growing deeper in tone, her entire form shifting, until Lister screamed, and scuttled away.
Perplexed, Kristine looked up, her face still shifting lightly between her own and Rimmer's. “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”
Panting, horrified, Lister pulled the blanket close to his chest, and tried to stop thinking. That was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He didn't have time to think. There was something... something he had to do. What was it? Oh yes. “Have'ta... have'ta leave...”
“Yes, darling,” Kristine soothed. “But surely you can wait until after New Years? That's only a week away; not even that.”
Still panic stricken, Lister could only nod. A week. What harm would another week do? Outside, dawn was coming, heralding the start of another day... and another Christmas Eve.