Fic: "Ends" - Rimmer/Lister - NC-17
Title: Ends
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf; they won't let me. Perhaps this story will help illustrate why that is so. And I make no money from this either.
Spoilers: Series VII and VIII, but nothing major. You might just not understand minor references.
Notes: This was a toughie to write! Thanks to syredronning, roadstergal, watergal and dreamplum for cheerleading, and my beloved, patient cobos for putting up with my inane questions about male sexuality. Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Lister stared out at the cold, familiar starscape outside the cockpit view-screens. They were never the same stars, of course, but he could count on them to be there, always. He knew he wouldn’t come up here one day and find - for example - a pastoral landscape complete with cows, tractors and comical scarecrows. The stars didn’t change. At least some things never changed.
He could hear Kochanski talking to Kryten behind him; something about being careful when re-charging with the modified socket-interface she’s made for him. He gave a faint smile. She was something that girl. She wasn’t the person he’d loved so many years ago, but she was certainly something. Beautiful even. He’d sort of gotten used to having her around. Kryten’s erratic footsteps clanked away, and soon there remained only the tense silence of someone trying to decide whether or not to speak. That smile still on his face, Lister turned around in his chair, and beckoned Kristine towards him.
“Nice night,” she said, settling down in the seat opposite him.
“Nice and quiet, at least,” he agreed.
“Yeah… We could do with a bit of that, couldn’t we?” She returned his smile, briefly, before returning to superfluously flicking at random controls.
“Narrow escape, that.”
“Certainly.” They hadn’t talked about it much, fresh as it was in their minds. Frowning as though she had suddenly remembered something, she turned towards him again, looking concerned. “Are you worried about him?”
Lister’s face hardened. “No,” he said, hoping his tone would discourage further questions.
“Right. Well, no. We had no choice, obviously.” She looked somewhat uncomfortable. “It’s just… I knew you two were close.”
“Not me and him. That was someone else.” Pretend something was wrong with the manual controls, make like you’re adjusting them.
“Oh. I see. Yes, I suppose it would be. Still, you probably won’t ever either of them again. That must be… Difficult.”
“Yeah.” Poke the navi-comp readout, reset the cabin-temp stabilizer, jiggle the display-controls. Weren’t women supposed to be good at taking hints?
“Oh. Well… I’m… Going to bed now.” She rose from the chair, and sidled over to his side. Lister did his best to keep his eyes fixed on the view in front of him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it gently. “We all get lonely, Dave,” she mumbled. “My door is always open. Just… Remember that, will you?” He looked up at her, and nodded. She was right, of course. Life went on. For the living.
He usually enjoyed taking the night shift on his own. Sometimes, it was nice just to clear your head and think about nothing. This was certainly one of those times. It didn’t hurt to know there was a beautiful woman lying in wait for him in a soft bed either. He leaned back in the rickety chair, feeling, for the first time in a very long while, somewhat content. What was the point, he thought, of wishing for things you could never have? Maybe he would never have a farm on Fiji, or his Kristine, what he liked to think of as the real Kristine, with a slight sting of guilt towards the Kris who was with them now; maybe he would never even come back to Earth. He didn’t have that; he didn’t have any of those things. He had this. And wasn’t this enough? It had to be. All dreams had to come to an end, eventually. He had to figure out a way to make the emptiness inside him go away. Brooding wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like him at all.
There was a slight, thud-y sort of sound, like a water-filled balloon bouncing off a rubber sheet. It was oddly familiar. He studied the view-screen carefully. Nothing. None of the instruments had registered anything out of the usual. He frowned. He should go alert Kryten; he was probably done re-charging anyway, he liked to get started on the evening’s laundry as soon as he could. Turning around, the eerie sensation that someone was watching him chilled his spine.
Oh smeg.
He didn’t stop to look at the figure in the reflective suit and wild hair; he fled - ignoring his name when he heard called, gently. This couldn’t be happening; not now, not again. There were limits, bloody limits to the emotional roller-coastering a man could take, even a stupidly chirpy, optimistic man like himself.
“Come back, Dave,” a voice called out.
Go away, Lister thought. I can’t deal with you now. And sod you to smegging hell if you’re just my imagination again.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Rimmer yelled, his voice reverberating down the corridor, reaching Lister’s ears despite the latter’s fervent attempts to avoid it.
“Go away, Rimmer,” Lister shouted back, not turning, walking desperately despite the fact that he knew there was nowhere he could actually run to.
“No!” There was a resoluteness in the voice that made Lister stop, just for a second. It was enough. Rimmer, having dumped the wig but still wearing that outrageous tin-foil suit, caught up with him and spun him around with a force that damn near knocked the wind out of him. “This time,” he said, green-brown eyes seething with either anger or… Something Lister didn’t want to think about, “you will listen to me. To me, Lister. And I’m not going to run away, or panic, or pretend I really meant something else. I’m not letting you off the hook this time. This is where it ends.”
He was holding Lister’s arms in an iron grip, and it almost hurt. “Why’d you come back,” Lister said, his voice breaking slightly. “Why’d you have to come barging in like that in the middle of the night, just out of nowhere? Why now?” He glanced in the direction of Kochanski’s quarters. “I thought you were gone forever, and I was happy. I really… I was happy, guy.”
Rimmer loosened his grip a little, but didn’t let go. He smiled faintly. “This…” he indicated the ridiculous suit, “this… Isn’t me. It never was. I’m not sure if I thought it was, if I just wanted it to be, but whatever - it just isn’t.” He shook his head a little, as if to clear his mind. “I belong here.” His eyes nailed Lister to the wall he was pressed up against, doing a better job of keeping him there than those artificially strong hard-light arms.
“But… Yer Ace, man,” Lister said, protesting.
“Only because I thought I had to be. I thought that was all there was for me - glory in someone else’s name. I didn’t have time to think about it. Even you told me I should go.”
“I thought it was what you wanted.” Lister found he couldn’t look straight at Rimmer, but the hologram’s arms held him pinned in a position where turning his head was somewhat uncomfortable. He turned it anyway.
“You knew what I wanted,” Rimmer said quietly. “You’ve always known. We’ve always known.”
“Shut up Rimmer,” Lister mumbled.
“No.” The grip grew firmer again, forcing Lister to face him. “I will tell you this. And then, if that’s still what you want, I’ll go away. Truly away. You’ll never see me again. I’ll make sure of that. Believe you me - Ace has ways of making sure he isn’t found unless he wants to. Understood?”
Lister just nodded. Something in Rimmer’s eyes changed, turned warmer, brighter. Lister realized that he was seeing Rimmer smile, truly smile, for the first time. The gravity of the situation finally hit home, and Lister could only stare at the other man, transfixed.
“I love you.” Rimmer said. And let go.
Lister just stood there for a moment, blinking, trying to find his footing. Rimmer hadn’t moved. He was waiting. “I…” Lister began, but before he could finish, he was being pressed up against that same wall, Rimmer’s lips on his, the other man’s groin brushing against his as their bodies met. And he felt… He felt like something had burst inside him, like rain after a thunderstorm, his heart fluttering around inside his chest, like a drunken butterfly. And he laughed, and grabbed Rimmer’s face with his hands and pulled him closer, opening his mouth and drinking him in, caressing the weirdly real holographic tongue with his own. His hands ran desperately over Rimmer’s Ace-suit, trying to find access to bare skin. “Get this stupid smegging thing off,” he sighed, coming up for air.
“Not here,” Rimmer breathed. His hands were on Lister’s belt, tugging at it, as though he were fighting himself not to rip it off, buckle and all.
Their eyes met. “Come on,” Lister said, although there was really no need. They both knew where to go.
Lister was through the door first, pulling Rimmer after him by his jacket-front. “God, we’re such idiots,” he mumbled. “Should have done this the first night you got your hard-light.”
Rimmer whispered “lock,” and the door shut behind them with a near-silent hum. His eyes never leaving Lister, he found a hidden clasp somewhere on his chest, and released it. The jacket fell to the ground when he lowered his arms, sliding off him like melted butter. “Real clothes,” he said, by ways of explanation, as though Lister cared. As they stood there, facing one another, Lister felt suddenly unsure of what to do next, as though they hadn’t just pawed at one another like crazed teens.
“So yer hard-light body…” Lister began, tentatively, “…It’s more sensitive than yer soft-light one?”
Rimmer nodded. “Nerver kissed anyone in it,” he swallowed. “Before now.” The look on his face said everything.
“Does it bear repeating?” Lister’s grin was back, almost in full force. Seeing Rimmer so aroused was… Fun. Plus it made him smegging horny. Even more than before.
Rimmer nodded again, very weakly this time. Lister let his jacket drop from his shoulders, and flung it off into the room behind him, not caring where it landed. He slowly approached Rimmer, who was backed up against the small folding-table, seeming somewhat unsteady on his feet. He had been wearing a white t-shirt underneath the jacket, and his nipples were barely visible, standing out against the tight fabric like, well, like nipples. Lister couldn’t think; his mind was rapidly approaching the auto-pilot stage. He wanted to rip that shirt off and lick those nipples and that smooth, firm chest until Rimmer screamed for mercy, but he could wait. When he was close enough, he leaned in until he could feel Rimmer’s simulated breath on his mouth. He could feel the other man shiver, a short burst of static rippling across his body as their lips touched, like the tiniest of orgasms. Well now, Lister thought. This could be fun.
Lister kept his lips at the edges of Rimmer’s, just brushing against them lightly. Their bodies were almost-touching too, the weak current generated by Rimmer crackling in the air between them. Lister was as hard as he’d ever been in his life, but he knew it was next to impossible to tell with the way he was dressed. The thought made his grin broaden; he knew Rimmer would be wearing loose-fitting boxers. It was all he’d ever worn; not exactly well-suited to hide an erection. Sure enough, looking down, he could see a telling, golden bulge. Suddenly, his view changed abruptly, as his head was jerked violently backwards. Rimmer had grabbed him by the hair, thrusting his tongue deep into Lister’s mouth yet again, static sparks bouncing off his skin onto Lister’s. Lister gasped, fumbling for the fastening mechanism on the remains of Rimmer’s suit. Finally, he gave up, instead using his grip to pull the other man towards the lower bunk as fast as humanly possible.
They hit the bunk with an audible thud, the three-million year old metal creaking ominously. Finally finding what appeared to be a fastening-device, Lister pushed and pulled until Rimmer’s pants were around his knees, at which point he was able struggle the rest of the way out of them. The hologram’s boots had already been discarded, while Lister was still wearing his, although he was only half-aware of this fact. He looked up at Rimmer, who was straddling him now, his face flustered and red, mouth half-open, tight white shirt looking like a highly starched second skin across his well-toned chest. Yeah, there’s the final proof I’m going crazy, Lister thought, because by god; Rimmer looks beautiful. He shuffled into a half-upright position, grabbed a hold of his own shirt, and tried to tear it off himself gracefully. He was doing well until the neck-line caught on his nose, but he managed to work one arm free, and swearing, flung the wretched thing onto the floor. He turned, expecting to see Rimmer suppressing a laugh, but instead, the hologram was staring at him with an unreadable expression. A pale, long-fingered hand reached out slowly to touch his chest, and when it did, the tiniest static charge tickled Lister’s skin. Rimmer’s mouth formed an “o”, his eyes closed, and with a sort of out-of-focus shimmer, the hologram’s shirt disappeared.
Lister found he wasn’t capable of doing anything but stare at the naked torso of his former bunk-mate, vaguely aware of a jumble of emotions that he’d probably have to take some time to sort out later, the back of his mind insisted. Dazedly, he noticed something happening in the vicinity of his crotch, and slowly moved his eyes downwards. Rimmer was unbuttoning his pants, his hands moving clumsily, but quickly. Lister yelped, and grasped Rimmer’s ass, pulling him closer. The hologram raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, and licked his lips in concentration. Lister knew how he felt; he was having a hell of a time keeping control himself. Finally, the fly was open, and, licking his lips again, slowly this time, Rimmer bent down and kissed the now very visible bulge in Lister’s boxers.
Any semblance of control he might have tried to convince himself he had was lost on Lister’s part now. He arched his lower body, pressing Rimmer against him, begging incoherently with whimpers and groans rather than actual words. Somehow, he managed to push his pants half-way down his thighs, and Rimmer responded by licking and kissing the newly exposed areas with the hunger of a starving man. Lister gripped the sides of the bunk in frustration, longing, wanting, needing to pull his boxers down and force Rimmer’s lips around his cock. Only the tattered infinitesimal remains of his self-restraint allowed him to refrain from doing so. He bit his lower lip until he was convinced he must be drawing blood, then let out a pleading; “Yer killin’ me… Please, Arn…”
At the mention of his name, the hologram seemed to stiffen, and he looked up, question and wonder in his eyes - but only for a second. The next thing Lister knew, his boxers were being ripped off, and something warm and soft and completely indescribable was engulfing him. A bizarre sound caught in his throat, part scream, part hoarse laughter, and his head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing to this feeling that he hadn’t experienced for so long, he’d almost forgotten what it was like. It was obvious that Rimmer had never done anything like this before, but the touch of his mouth was incredibly soft, yet enticing. Had it ever been like this, Lister thought? Like his entire body was alive with pleasure; like there was a bee-line from some incredible wellspring of absolute bliss to his brain? He was pretty certain there’d never been sparks flying before though, at least not literally. As they moved together, tiny blue points of light fizzed into existence where Rimmer’s mouth met Lister’s groin, where hands met skin, where legs brushed against naked chest, sizzling and popping like some demented firework-display. Idiots, he thought again, we were right smegging idiots for not doing this sooner.
There were some drawbacks to going three million years or so between leg-overs, Lister realized, as the insistent, throbbing pain-pleasure in his reproductive organs grew more and more unbearable. Alright, it was pretty much only drawbacks, but one of them was that you weren’t able to last very long when you did get down to it. He could feel Rimmer shivering above him, holographic sweat glistening on his back, and cursed as he felt himself getting closer and closer to release. He didn’t want this to end so soon; they’d waited too long for that! Besides, there was such a thing as reciprocity, and he knew himself well enough to realize he’d be fast asleep the moment after he’d climaxed. Summoning every last resource in his mind, soul and body, he sighed inwardly, and gently caught Rimmer’s face as he was coming up for air.
“Wuz enjoin’ tha’” the hologram mumbled incoherently, but did not protest further when Lister pushed him down onto his back. In fact, when the realization of what Lister was trying to do registered on his face in a mixture of joy and disbelief, his boxers dematerialized in Lister’s hands as he was trying to take them off.
“Neat trick, that,” Lister grinned, before turning his attention to Rimmer’s rather impressive erection. He’d never seen one this close up; his curiosity temporarily winning out over his need. It looked a lot different from this angle, and compared to his own, the shape and color was completely different. Tentatively, he stuck out his tongue, licking experimentally at the exposed head. Oh. So that’s what it felt like. Encouraged by the sounds Rimmer was making, he brought his mouth down over the head, sliding gently up and down, trying to imitate the motions he had felt being administered to himself a moment ago. He had expected the strange, unfamiliar sensations, but not the deep, thrilling enjoyment of it all. For every movement of Rimmer’s body, his own shivered in response, blue sparks erupting wherever there was friction, some of them quite painful, but Lister was far beyond the point of being able to tell the difference between pleasure and pain.
Rimmer crawled back on his elbows, leaning his back up against the wall, allowing Lister to see his face; and that was it, really. That’s when he knew he was lost; that this wouldn’t just be something they’d do once and be finished with it; get it out of their system. When they’d finished, Rimmer wouldn’t put that blonde wig back on and race off to some other dimension, leaving him to make a life with Kochanski, because Lister smegging well wouldn’t let him. He saw that all-too-familiar face, glistening with sweat, curly hair sticking to the forehead, and knew every nuance of color in those eyes even though they were closed; every line on his face; every odd, twitchy movement of his nose; he knew it all, and he realized he had never loved anyone as much as he did this man. He hastened his movements, craving release, but refusing to give in to it before he’d brought the same to the man he’d just realized he loved. It came as something of a surprise, therefore, when he felt himself being lifted protestingly, and brought face to face with Rimmer, who was kissing him as if doing so would bring his dead self back to life. Desperately, Lister returned the favor, aligning his body with Rimmer’s, thrusting against him as they fell into a familiar-yet-strange rhythm. And then everything was smell and taste and touch and soft, moaning whimpers, the world disappearing in a whirlpool of sheer, unadulterated joy, until they both cried out, with sounds neither of them could identify, collapsing into too-long awaited euphoria, and one another’s arms.
“Gunnafallaslee’” Lister mumbled, an enternity, or thirty seconds later.
“Yeh, s’not a bad idea,” Rimmer concented. “’les you want t’throw me ou’?” He was rewarded with the odd, humming vibration of Lister laughing against his chest.
“Ye sound like a Scouser, man,” Lister finally managed.
“Wha’? Wh.. What? No!”
“Yeh, ye did, just now!”
“Well, Davey-boy, it’s hardly my fault that your accent sounds like someone only half-awake, is it?”
They were lying in a mess of sheets and covers, tangled up in one another’s limbs, hair sticking out in every direction; clothes scattered everywhere. Lister was still wearing his boots, his pants and boxers somewhere around his knees. Rimmer was still naked, not having bothered to simulate any clothing. Lister inspected his flushed, frazzled features, looking oddly bare without the ever-present “H”. “Yer a right smeghead, ye know that?” he grinned, hugging Rimmer tighter.
There was that warm smile again, melting Lister’s heart into a small, damp puddle. “I know,” he said, nonchalantly. “I’m a stupid, dead git, and you’ve just had hot steamy sex with me.” He wriggled down into the bunk, bringing himself face to face with Lister.
“That’s cuz I luv ya,” Lister muttered, dazed by absolutely everything. Beneath him, Rimmer stirred, his artificial heart-beat seeming quicker. “Ye alright?” He asked, drifting off into sleep.
“Perfectly,” came the quiet reply. Lister relaxed, feeling himself slowly losing consciousness.
“Dave?”
“Yuh?”
“Um… Dave?”
“Yeh? Whuzzit?”
“Who’s watching the cockpit?”
“Oh, smeg!”
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf; they won't let me. Perhaps this story will help illustrate why that is so. And I make no money from this either.
Spoilers: Series VII and VIII, but nothing major. You might just not understand minor references.
Notes: This was a toughie to write! Thanks to syredronning, roadstergal, watergal and dreamplum for cheerleading, and my beloved, patient cobos for putting up with my inane questions about male sexuality. Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Lister stared out at the cold, familiar starscape outside the cockpit view-screens. They were never the same stars, of course, but he could count on them to be there, always. He knew he wouldn’t come up here one day and find - for example - a pastoral landscape complete with cows, tractors and comical scarecrows. The stars didn’t change. At least some things never changed.
He could hear Kochanski talking to Kryten behind him; something about being careful when re-charging with the modified socket-interface she’s made for him. He gave a faint smile. She was something that girl. She wasn’t the person he’d loved so many years ago, but she was certainly something. Beautiful even. He’d sort of gotten used to having her around. Kryten’s erratic footsteps clanked away, and soon there remained only the tense silence of someone trying to decide whether or not to speak. That smile still on his face, Lister turned around in his chair, and beckoned Kristine towards him.
“Nice night,” she said, settling down in the seat opposite him.
“Nice and quiet, at least,” he agreed.
“Yeah… We could do with a bit of that, couldn’t we?” She returned his smile, briefly, before returning to superfluously flicking at random controls.
“Narrow escape, that.”
“Certainly.” They hadn’t talked about it much, fresh as it was in their minds. Frowning as though she had suddenly remembered something, she turned towards him again, looking concerned. “Are you worried about him?”
Lister’s face hardened. “No,” he said, hoping his tone would discourage further questions.
“Right. Well, no. We had no choice, obviously.” She looked somewhat uncomfortable. “It’s just… I knew you two were close.”
“Not me and him. That was someone else.” Pretend something was wrong with the manual controls, make like you’re adjusting them.
“Oh. I see. Yes, I suppose it would be. Still, you probably won’t ever either of them again. That must be… Difficult.”
“Yeah.” Poke the navi-comp readout, reset the cabin-temp stabilizer, jiggle the display-controls. Weren’t women supposed to be good at taking hints?
“Oh. Well… I’m… Going to bed now.” She rose from the chair, and sidled over to his side. Lister did his best to keep his eyes fixed on the view in front of him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it gently. “We all get lonely, Dave,” she mumbled. “My door is always open. Just… Remember that, will you?” He looked up at her, and nodded. She was right, of course. Life went on. For the living.
He usually enjoyed taking the night shift on his own. Sometimes, it was nice just to clear your head and think about nothing. This was certainly one of those times. It didn’t hurt to know there was a beautiful woman lying in wait for him in a soft bed either. He leaned back in the rickety chair, feeling, for the first time in a very long while, somewhat content. What was the point, he thought, of wishing for things you could never have? Maybe he would never have a farm on Fiji, or his Kristine, what he liked to think of as the real Kristine, with a slight sting of guilt towards the Kris who was with them now; maybe he would never even come back to Earth. He didn’t have that; he didn’t have any of those things. He had this. And wasn’t this enough? It had to be. All dreams had to come to an end, eventually. He had to figure out a way to make the emptiness inside him go away. Brooding wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like him at all.
There was a slight, thud-y sort of sound, like a water-filled balloon bouncing off a rubber sheet. It was oddly familiar. He studied the view-screen carefully. Nothing. None of the instruments had registered anything out of the usual. He frowned. He should go alert Kryten; he was probably done re-charging anyway, he liked to get started on the evening’s laundry as soon as he could. Turning around, the eerie sensation that someone was watching him chilled his spine.
Oh smeg.
He didn’t stop to look at the figure in the reflective suit and wild hair; he fled - ignoring his name when he heard called, gently. This couldn’t be happening; not now, not again. There were limits, bloody limits to the emotional roller-coastering a man could take, even a stupidly chirpy, optimistic man like himself.
“Come back, Dave,” a voice called out.
Go away, Lister thought. I can’t deal with you now. And sod you to smegging hell if you’re just my imagination again.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Rimmer yelled, his voice reverberating down the corridor, reaching Lister’s ears despite the latter’s fervent attempts to avoid it.
“Go away, Rimmer,” Lister shouted back, not turning, walking desperately despite the fact that he knew there was nowhere he could actually run to.
“No!” There was a resoluteness in the voice that made Lister stop, just for a second. It was enough. Rimmer, having dumped the wig but still wearing that outrageous tin-foil suit, caught up with him and spun him around with a force that damn near knocked the wind out of him. “This time,” he said, green-brown eyes seething with either anger or… Something Lister didn’t want to think about, “you will listen to me. To me, Lister. And I’m not going to run away, or panic, or pretend I really meant something else. I’m not letting you off the hook this time. This is where it ends.”
He was holding Lister’s arms in an iron grip, and it almost hurt. “Why’d you come back,” Lister said, his voice breaking slightly. “Why’d you have to come barging in like that in the middle of the night, just out of nowhere? Why now?” He glanced in the direction of Kochanski’s quarters. “I thought you were gone forever, and I was happy. I really… I was happy, guy.”
Rimmer loosened his grip a little, but didn’t let go. He smiled faintly. “This…” he indicated the ridiculous suit, “this… Isn’t me. It never was. I’m not sure if I thought it was, if I just wanted it to be, but whatever - it just isn’t.” He shook his head a little, as if to clear his mind. “I belong here.” His eyes nailed Lister to the wall he was pressed up against, doing a better job of keeping him there than those artificially strong hard-light arms.
“But… Yer Ace, man,” Lister said, protesting.
“Only because I thought I had to be. I thought that was all there was for me - glory in someone else’s name. I didn’t have time to think about it. Even you told me I should go.”
“I thought it was what you wanted.” Lister found he couldn’t look straight at Rimmer, but the hologram’s arms held him pinned in a position where turning his head was somewhat uncomfortable. He turned it anyway.
“You knew what I wanted,” Rimmer said quietly. “You’ve always known. We’ve always known.”
“Shut up Rimmer,” Lister mumbled.
“No.” The grip grew firmer again, forcing Lister to face him. “I will tell you this. And then, if that’s still what you want, I’ll go away. Truly away. You’ll never see me again. I’ll make sure of that. Believe you me - Ace has ways of making sure he isn’t found unless he wants to. Understood?”
Lister just nodded. Something in Rimmer’s eyes changed, turned warmer, brighter. Lister realized that he was seeing Rimmer smile, truly smile, for the first time. The gravity of the situation finally hit home, and Lister could only stare at the other man, transfixed.
“I love you.” Rimmer said. And let go.
Lister just stood there for a moment, blinking, trying to find his footing. Rimmer hadn’t moved. He was waiting. “I…” Lister began, but before he could finish, he was being pressed up against that same wall, Rimmer’s lips on his, the other man’s groin brushing against his as their bodies met. And he felt… He felt like something had burst inside him, like rain after a thunderstorm, his heart fluttering around inside his chest, like a drunken butterfly. And he laughed, and grabbed Rimmer’s face with his hands and pulled him closer, opening his mouth and drinking him in, caressing the weirdly real holographic tongue with his own. His hands ran desperately over Rimmer’s Ace-suit, trying to find access to bare skin. “Get this stupid smegging thing off,” he sighed, coming up for air.
“Not here,” Rimmer breathed. His hands were on Lister’s belt, tugging at it, as though he were fighting himself not to rip it off, buckle and all.
Their eyes met. “Come on,” Lister said, although there was really no need. They both knew where to go.
Lister was through the door first, pulling Rimmer after him by his jacket-front. “God, we’re such idiots,” he mumbled. “Should have done this the first night you got your hard-light.”
Rimmer whispered “lock,” and the door shut behind them with a near-silent hum. His eyes never leaving Lister, he found a hidden clasp somewhere on his chest, and released it. The jacket fell to the ground when he lowered his arms, sliding off him like melted butter. “Real clothes,” he said, by ways of explanation, as though Lister cared. As they stood there, facing one another, Lister felt suddenly unsure of what to do next, as though they hadn’t just pawed at one another like crazed teens.
“So yer hard-light body…” Lister began, tentatively, “…It’s more sensitive than yer soft-light one?”
Rimmer nodded. “Nerver kissed anyone in it,” he swallowed. “Before now.” The look on his face said everything.
“Does it bear repeating?” Lister’s grin was back, almost in full force. Seeing Rimmer so aroused was… Fun. Plus it made him smegging horny. Even more than before.
Rimmer nodded again, very weakly this time. Lister let his jacket drop from his shoulders, and flung it off into the room behind him, not caring where it landed. He slowly approached Rimmer, who was backed up against the small folding-table, seeming somewhat unsteady on his feet. He had been wearing a white t-shirt underneath the jacket, and his nipples were barely visible, standing out against the tight fabric like, well, like nipples. Lister couldn’t think; his mind was rapidly approaching the auto-pilot stage. He wanted to rip that shirt off and lick those nipples and that smooth, firm chest until Rimmer screamed for mercy, but he could wait. When he was close enough, he leaned in until he could feel Rimmer’s simulated breath on his mouth. He could feel the other man shiver, a short burst of static rippling across his body as their lips touched, like the tiniest of orgasms. Well now, Lister thought. This could be fun.
Lister kept his lips at the edges of Rimmer’s, just brushing against them lightly. Their bodies were almost-touching too, the weak current generated by Rimmer crackling in the air between them. Lister was as hard as he’d ever been in his life, but he knew it was next to impossible to tell with the way he was dressed. The thought made his grin broaden; he knew Rimmer would be wearing loose-fitting boxers. It was all he’d ever worn; not exactly well-suited to hide an erection. Sure enough, looking down, he could see a telling, golden bulge. Suddenly, his view changed abruptly, as his head was jerked violently backwards. Rimmer had grabbed him by the hair, thrusting his tongue deep into Lister’s mouth yet again, static sparks bouncing off his skin onto Lister’s. Lister gasped, fumbling for the fastening mechanism on the remains of Rimmer’s suit. Finally, he gave up, instead using his grip to pull the other man towards the lower bunk as fast as humanly possible.
They hit the bunk with an audible thud, the three-million year old metal creaking ominously. Finally finding what appeared to be a fastening-device, Lister pushed and pulled until Rimmer’s pants were around his knees, at which point he was able struggle the rest of the way out of them. The hologram’s boots had already been discarded, while Lister was still wearing his, although he was only half-aware of this fact. He looked up at Rimmer, who was straddling him now, his face flustered and red, mouth half-open, tight white shirt looking like a highly starched second skin across his well-toned chest. Yeah, there’s the final proof I’m going crazy, Lister thought, because by god; Rimmer looks beautiful. He shuffled into a half-upright position, grabbed a hold of his own shirt, and tried to tear it off himself gracefully. He was doing well until the neck-line caught on his nose, but he managed to work one arm free, and swearing, flung the wretched thing onto the floor. He turned, expecting to see Rimmer suppressing a laugh, but instead, the hologram was staring at him with an unreadable expression. A pale, long-fingered hand reached out slowly to touch his chest, and when it did, the tiniest static charge tickled Lister’s skin. Rimmer’s mouth formed an “o”, his eyes closed, and with a sort of out-of-focus shimmer, the hologram’s shirt disappeared.
Lister found he wasn’t capable of doing anything but stare at the naked torso of his former bunk-mate, vaguely aware of a jumble of emotions that he’d probably have to take some time to sort out later, the back of his mind insisted. Dazedly, he noticed something happening in the vicinity of his crotch, and slowly moved his eyes downwards. Rimmer was unbuttoning his pants, his hands moving clumsily, but quickly. Lister yelped, and grasped Rimmer’s ass, pulling him closer. The hologram raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, and licked his lips in concentration. Lister knew how he felt; he was having a hell of a time keeping control himself. Finally, the fly was open, and, licking his lips again, slowly this time, Rimmer bent down and kissed the now very visible bulge in Lister’s boxers.
Any semblance of control he might have tried to convince himself he had was lost on Lister’s part now. He arched his lower body, pressing Rimmer against him, begging incoherently with whimpers and groans rather than actual words. Somehow, he managed to push his pants half-way down his thighs, and Rimmer responded by licking and kissing the newly exposed areas with the hunger of a starving man. Lister gripped the sides of the bunk in frustration, longing, wanting, needing to pull his boxers down and force Rimmer’s lips around his cock. Only the tattered infinitesimal remains of his self-restraint allowed him to refrain from doing so. He bit his lower lip until he was convinced he must be drawing blood, then let out a pleading; “Yer killin’ me… Please, Arn…”
At the mention of his name, the hologram seemed to stiffen, and he looked up, question and wonder in his eyes - but only for a second. The next thing Lister knew, his boxers were being ripped off, and something warm and soft and completely indescribable was engulfing him. A bizarre sound caught in his throat, part scream, part hoarse laughter, and his head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing to this feeling that he hadn’t experienced for so long, he’d almost forgotten what it was like. It was obvious that Rimmer had never done anything like this before, but the touch of his mouth was incredibly soft, yet enticing. Had it ever been like this, Lister thought? Like his entire body was alive with pleasure; like there was a bee-line from some incredible wellspring of absolute bliss to his brain? He was pretty certain there’d never been sparks flying before though, at least not literally. As they moved together, tiny blue points of light fizzed into existence where Rimmer’s mouth met Lister’s groin, where hands met skin, where legs brushed against naked chest, sizzling and popping like some demented firework-display. Idiots, he thought again, we were right smegging idiots for not doing this sooner.
There were some drawbacks to going three million years or so between leg-overs, Lister realized, as the insistent, throbbing pain-pleasure in his reproductive organs grew more and more unbearable. Alright, it was pretty much only drawbacks, but one of them was that you weren’t able to last very long when you did get down to it. He could feel Rimmer shivering above him, holographic sweat glistening on his back, and cursed as he felt himself getting closer and closer to release. He didn’t want this to end so soon; they’d waited too long for that! Besides, there was such a thing as reciprocity, and he knew himself well enough to realize he’d be fast asleep the moment after he’d climaxed. Summoning every last resource in his mind, soul and body, he sighed inwardly, and gently caught Rimmer’s face as he was coming up for air.
“Wuz enjoin’ tha’” the hologram mumbled incoherently, but did not protest further when Lister pushed him down onto his back. In fact, when the realization of what Lister was trying to do registered on his face in a mixture of joy and disbelief, his boxers dematerialized in Lister’s hands as he was trying to take them off.
“Neat trick, that,” Lister grinned, before turning his attention to Rimmer’s rather impressive erection. He’d never seen one this close up; his curiosity temporarily winning out over his need. It looked a lot different from this angle, and compared to his own, the shape and color was completely different. Tentatively, he stuck out his tongue, licking experimentally at the exposed head. Oh. So that’s what it felt like. Encouraged by the sounds Rimmer was making, he brought his mouth down over the head, sliding gently up and down, trying to imitate the motions he had felt being administered to himself a moment ago. He had expected the strange, unfamiliar sensations, but not the deep, thrilling enjoyment of it all. For every movement of Rimmer’s body, his own shivered in response, blue sparks erupting wherever there was friction, some of them quite painful, but Lister was far beyond the point of being able to tell the difference between pleasure and pain.
Rimmer crawled back on his elbows, leaning his back up against the wall, allowing Lister to see his face; and that was it, really. That’s when he knew he was lost; that this wouldn’t just be something they’d do once and be finished with it; get it out of their system. When they’d finished, Rimmer wouldn’t put that blonde wig back on and race off to some other dimension, leaving him to make a life with Kochanski, because Lister smegging well wouldn’t let him. He saw that all-too-familiar face, glistening with sweat, curly hair sticking to the forehead, and knew every nuance of color in those eyes even though they were closed; every line on his face; every odd, twitchy movement of his nose; he knew it all, and he realized he had never loved anyone as much as he did this man. He hastened his movements, craving release, but refusing to give in to it before he’d brought the same to the man he’d just realized he loved. It came as something of a surprise, therefore, when he felt himself being lifted protestingly, and brought face to face with Rimmer, who was kissing him as if doing so would bring his dead self back to life. Desperately, Lister returned the favor, aligning his body with Rimmer’s, thrusting against him as they fell into a familiar-yet-strange rhythm. And then everything was smell and taste and touch and soft, moaning whimpers, the world disappearing in a whirlpool of sheer, unadulterated joy, until they both cried out, with sounds neither of them could identify, collapsing into too-long awaited euphoria, and one another’s arms.
“Gunnafallaslee’” Lister mumbled, an enternity, or thirty seconds later.
“Yeh, s’not a bad idea,” Rimmer concented. “’les you want t’throw me ou’?” He was rewarded with the odd, humming vibration of Lister laughing against his chest.
“Ye sound like a Scouser, man,” Lister finally managed.
“Wha’? Wh.. What? No!”
“Yeh, ye did, just now!”
“Well, Davey-boy, it’s hardly my fault that your accent sounds like someone only half-awake, is it?”
They were lying in a mess of sheets and covers, tangled up in one another’s limbs, hair sticking out in every direction; clothes scattered everywhere. Lister was still wearing his boots, his pants and boxers somewhere around his knees. Rimmer was still naked, not having bothered to simulate any clothing. Lister inspected his flushed, frazzled features, looking oddly bare without the ever-present “H”. “Yer a right smeghead, ye know that?” he grinned, hugging Rimmer tighter.
There was that warm smile again, melting Lister’s heart into a small, damp puddle. “I know,” he said, nonchalantly. “I’m a stupid, dead git, and you’ve just had hot steamy sex with me.” He wriggled down into the bunk, bringing himself face to face with Lister.
“That’s cuz I luv ya,” Lister muttered, dazed by absolutely everything. Beneath him, Rimmer stirred, his artificial heart-beat seeming quicker. “Ye alright?” He asked, drifting off into sleep.
“Perfectly,” came the quiet reply. Lister relaxed, feeling himself slowly losing consciousness.
“Dave?”
“Yuh?”
“Um… Dave?”
“Yeh? Whuzzit?”
“Who’s watching the cockpit?”
“Oh, smeg!”