Fic - Taking Turns, part 2 of 3
Title: Taking Turns
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Rating: NC-17 overall (this part R)
Summary The new Ace Rimmer finds a surprise waiting for him in one universe he drops into...
Rimmer's steps slowed as they neared the crew quarters, the beer courage evaporating quicker than a puddle in a desert.
"Look--" he began uncertainly, but found himself talking to a grey steel door as Lister took a sudden left turn. A quick rattle and he stumbled forward into...
Darkness. The smell of floor polish and industrial strength soap assaulted his nostrils just seconds before hands - presumably Lister's - assaulted his person. Pushed up against a shelf, unseen objects pressing hard into his shoulder and Lister's fingers working once more at his buttons, Rimmer opened his mouth to protest.
"These are the smallest crew quarters I've ever seen," he squeaked, even his voice not co-operating in the slightest. Typical. Just when he could do with a little manly reassurance from his body, he turned into Shirley smegging Temple.
With a laugh, Lister shoved one warm hand under Rimmer's shirt and unfastened the last button holding his trousers up. Rimmer whimpered as his neatly pressed pants fell to the floor. "You'd better have an iron, Lister," he gasped. Really, a slob like him had no idea just how impossible it was to do decent laundry in the shuttle.
"Sorry, man." Lister nuzzled against Rimmer's chest, his hand working its way into his underwear like an expert. "I couldn't wait any longer."
It was unbelievable. Either this was really, really true, or Lister was taking a joke further than any man could be reasonably be expected to laugh at it. And as fingers freed him from his boxers and curled possessively around his cock, he had to admit - ahhh - that Lister certainly seemed to know what he was doing.
"I just had to taste you again," came the voice from the dark - the voice from the dark that was now coming from somewhere around his navel.
"Taste?"
There was only the faintest warm breath of warning to prepare him, and then there it was. A broad, wet swipe along the underside of his cock, and it was a good thing Rimmer couldn't see anything because oh god, that was Lister down there, Lister holding him firmly by the balls without a joke or an insult on his lips because those lips were busy working their way down his shaft, sucking him in and coaxing him deeper, and all the time making happy little noises as if there was nothing he would rather be doing than kneeling in front of his dead former bunkmate and sucking him like a hoover--
The next thing Rimmer knew he was sagging heavily against the shelf, one arm wrapped tightly around a very friendly rack of damp mops and the other holding Lister close to him. A tang of salty bitterness tingled on his tongue, not unpleasant and not altogether unfamiliar from his adolescence, but the fact that it was coming from Lister's tongue tracing along the inside of his lip was certainly unfamiliar. The tongue pushed deeper, and Rimmer tried very hard to forget it was Lister doing this, but the sounds were still there, and the little "Oh yeah" every time they pulled apart was a dead giveaway. Rimmer had never met anyone else in his life with a Scouse accent, let alone a woman.
"Come on." Lister pulled back, reluctantly if his hands tracing along Rimmer's back were any indication. "It's not far now."
---
With the rough and ready experience of the broom cupboard behind him, Rimmer rather expected Lister to well... leap on him, as soon as they were through the door of the cabin. After all, he'd been able to feel Lister's arousal quite clearly from the moment he'd first pressed up against him.
In fact, even if he'd had twenty guesses at Lister's seduction technique, Rimmer rather doubted this would have been anywhere in there.
"What're you thinking?" Lister drew back from another long, lingering kiss and let his hands trace a wandering line down Rimmer's side.
"I'm thinking..." Rimmer let the sarcastic retort die on his lips, and considered the cost of telling the truth. Sod it. "I'm thinking you wouldn't be doing this if you knew who I was."
There, he'd said it. Now everything could go back to barbs and insults as normal.
"I know who you are, Rimmer." A small smile played over Lister's face, but Rimmer knew it was going to disappear any second now.
"I'm not Ace, I'm not your 'Ace' Rimmer, I'm just a plain--" He stopped. "You called me Rimmer?"
"Yeah." The smile was still there, in fact it was almost a grin now.
"You know? You know I'm not really Ace? I'm just an impostor, and a bad one at that. And I'm not your Ace. Hell, I'm not even your Rimmer." Rimmer dropped his gaze and picked at the blankets. It was probably a good thing Lister was going to chuck him out now. It's not as if he even had a clue what to do here.
"Don't be daft, man." Lister didn't seem to be throwing him out, though, and there was still amusement in that voice.
Rimmer looked up.
"You're all my Rimmers." And Lister pulled him closer once more.
---
"I... I don't really know what to do," said Rimmer, the next time they broke for air.
"You don't need to do anything, if you don't want." Lister smiled.
Well, that was good. Rimmer tried to summon up some guilt for not reciprocating in some way, but... no. Clearly he was still lacking a fair few Ace-like qualities, and a smegging good thing too. He might get out of this yet with his bottom still Scouser-free.
"But think how many universes you might have to go through before you got another chance to try it? And they might not be as experienced as me." Lister winked.
Rimmer hesitated, even when Lister shuffled closer and stroked down his chest.
"I promise I'll be gentle with you." Lister's voice dropped, his eyes boring straight into Rimmer. "Very gentle." An evil grin twisted his lips, and Rimmer couldn't take his eyes off it. It was like the devil had turned up to tempt him in the form of a short, sweaty engineer who was superficially Dave Lister. "Right up to the point while I fuck your smegging brains out."
Oh god. Rimmer could practically hear his underpant elastic snap.
"Y-you mean..." he trailed off, not entirely certain he could say it to that smirking face, no matter what had just transpired between them.
"I mean," said Lister, "fuck your brains out. Strip you down to the chassis, oil you up and give you a damn good servicing."
"And," Rimmer tried desperately to control the squeak as he spoke, "this servicing would presumably involve... tools, yes?"
"Just the one, Rimmer. Just the one." Lister moved over him, pushing him flat against the narrow bunk bed. "I'll make it good, you know, just open you up and fill you so full of me you'll still be feeling it in three weeks, how does that sound?"
Right now, it sounded pretty damn good.
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Rating: NC-17 overall (this part R)
Summary The new Ace Rimmer finds a surprise waiting for him in one universe he drops into...
Rimmer's steps slowed as they neared the crew quarters, the beer courage evaporating quicker than a puddle in a desert.
"Look--" he began uncertainly, but found himself talking to a grey steel door as Lister took a sudden left turn. A quick rattle and he stumbled forward into...
Darkness. The smell of floor polish and industrial strength soap assaulted his nostrils just seconds before hands - presumably Lister's - assaulted his person. Pushed up against a shelf, unseen objects pressing hard into his shoulder and Lister's fingers working once more at his buttons, Rimmer opened his mouth to protest.
"These are the smallest crew quarters I've ever seen," he squeaked, even his voice not co-operating in the slightest. Typical. Just when he could do with a little manly reassurance from his body, he turned into Shirley smegging Temple.
With a laugh, Lister shoved one warm hand under Rimmer's shirt and unfastened the last button holding his trousers up. Rimmer whimpered as his neatly pressed pants fell to the floor. "You'd better have an iron, Lister," he gasped. Really, a slob like him had no idea just how impossible it was to do decent laundry in the shuttle.
"Sorry, man." Lister nuzzled against Rimmer's chest, his hand working its way into his underwear like an expert. "I couldn't wait any longer."
It was unbelievable. Either this was really, really true, or Lister was taking a joke further than any man could be reasonably be expected to laugh at it. And as fingers freed him from his boxers and curled possessively around his cock, he had to admit - ahhh - that Lister certainly seemed to know what he was doing.
"I just had to taste you again," came the voice from the dark - the voice from the dark that was now coming from somewhere around his navel.
"Taste?"
There was only the faintest warm breath of warning to prepare him, and then there it was. A broad, wet swipe along the underside of his cock, and it was a good thing Rimmer couldn't see anything because oh god, that was Lister down there, Lister holding him firmly by the balls without a joke or an insult on his lips because those lips were busy working their way down his shaft, sucking him in and coaxing him deeper, and all the time making happy little noises as if there was nothing he would rather be doing than kneeling in front of his dead former bunkmate and sucking him like a hoover--
The next thing Rimmer knew he was sagging heavily against the shelf, one arm wrapped tightly around a very friendly rack of damp mops and the other holding Lister close to him. A tang of salty bitterness tingled on his tongue, not unpleasant and not altogether unfamiliar from his adolescence, but the fact that it was coming from Lister's tongue tracing along the inside of his lip was certainly unfamiliar. The tongue pushed deeper, and Rimmer tried very hard to forget it was Lister doing this, but the sounds were still there, and the little "Oh yeah" every time they pulled apart was a dead giveaway. Rimmer had never met anyone else in his life with a Scouse accent, let alone a woman.
"Come on." Lister pulled back, reluctantly if his hands tracing along Rimmer's back were any indication. "It's not far now."
---
With the rough and ready experience of the broom cupboard behind him, Rimmer rather expected Lister to well... leap on him, as soon as they were through the door of the cabin. After all, he'd been able to feel Lister's arousal quite clearly from the moment he'd first pressed up against him.
In fact, even if he'd had twenty guesses at Lister's seduction technique, Rimmer rather doubted this would have been anywhere in there.
"What're you thinking?" Lister drew back from another long, lingering kiss and let his hands trace a wandering line down Rimmer's side.
"I'm thinking..." Rimmer let the sarcastic retort die on his lips, and considered the cost of telling the truth. Sod it. "I'm thinking you wouldn't be doing this if you knew who I was."
There, he'd said it. Now everything could go back to barbs and insults as normal.
"I know who you are, Rimmer." A small smile played over Lister's face, but Rimmer knew it was going to disappear any second now.
"I'm not Ace, I'm not your 'Ace' Rimmer, I'm just a plain--" He stopped. "You called me Rimmer?"
"Yeah." The smile was still there, in fact it was almost a grin now.
"You know? You know I'm not really Ace? I'm just an impostor, and a bad one at that. And I'm not your Ace. Hell, I'm not even your Rimmer." Rimmer dropped his gaze and picked at the blankets. It was probably a good thing Lister was going to chuck him out now. It's not as if he even had a clue what to do here.
"Don't be daft, man." Lister didn't seem to be throwing him out, though, and there was still amusement in that voice.
Rimmer looked up.
"You're all my Rimmers." And Lister pulled him closer once more.
---
"I... I don't really know what to do," said Rimmer, the next time they broke for air.
"You don't need to do anything, if you don't want." Lister smiled.
Well, that was good. Rimmer tried to summon up some guilt for not reciprocating in some way, but... no. Clearly he was still lacking a fair few Ace-like qualities, and a smegging good thing too. He might get out of this yet with his bottom still Scouser-free.
"But think how many universes you might have to go through before you got another chance to try it? And they might not be as experienced as me." Lister winked.
Rimmer hesitated, even when Lister shuffled closer and stroked down his chest.
"I promise I'll be gentle with you." Lister's voice dropped, his eyes boring straight into Rimmer. "Very gentle." An evil grin twisted his lips, and Rimmer couldn't take his eyes off it. It was like the devil had turned up to tempt him in the form of a short, sweaty engineer who was superficially Dave Lister. "Right up to the point while I fuck your smegging brains out."
Oh god. Rimmer could practically hear his underpant elastic snap.
"Y-you mean..." he trailed off, not entirely certain he could say it to that smirking face, no matter what had just transpired between them.
"I mean," said Lister, "fuck your brains out. Strip you down to the chassis, oil you up and give you a damn good servicing."
"And," Rimmer tried desperately to control the squeak as he spoke, "this servicing would presumably involve... tools, yes?"
"Just the one, Rimmer. Just the one." Lister moved over him, pushing him flat against the narrow bunk bed. "I'll make it good, you know, just open you up and fill you so full of me you'll still be feeling it in three weeks, how does that sound?"
Right now, it sounded pretty damn good.