Fic: Glitch - R/L - PG-13
Title: Glitch
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't make money from.
Spoilers: Legion
Notes: A silly little quickie, from a scenario suggested by roadstergal. Also written for the 15pairings challenge.
"I don't buy it," Lister said, muching thoughtfully on what Kryten had insisted was a deep-fried king prawn. "He pulls out yer innards just like that, and replaces them with a little gadget, and yer fine?"
Rimmer, in the process of searching through the meager collection of clothes available on the tiny lander, did not look up. "More than 'fine', Listy. I feel fantastic." He lifted a red leather mini-skirt out of the pile, and turned to look at Lister questioningly.
Lister shrugged. "It's not mine. A lot of these are just things Cat dragged in from various derelicts, you know. He uses them to make other things out of." Rimmer kept staring, and finally Lister stalked over and tore the skirt from his hands. "I said, it's not mine!"
Rimmer snorted. "It wouldn't have surprised me if it was. You've got the hair to match."
"Me locks are not girly, Rimmer. They're not pigtails, you know."
"Yes, well." Rimmer kicked the pile for good measure, giving up. "I wouldn't put it past you to show up with that one day. Pigtails tied up with pretty pink ribbons, and a short red leather mini-skirt. Wouldn't be any stranger than some of your other outfits. Be a damn sight better than walking around in your boxers, like you are now!"
Not taking the obvious bait, Lister swallowed the rest of his dubious prawn, and sat down on his bunk. "Yeah, yeah." He was glad Rimmer hadn't found anything to his taste. He hadn't been particularly happy with the fact that Rimmer was doing this in his quarters. If he'd found anything, he would probably have changed into it, which would mean taking his clothes off, which would mean... Lister shook those nightmareish mental images away. It occurred to him that Rimmer had grown oddly quiet. "You sure yer all right?" he asked, feeling a slight, unexplainable chill seeing Rimmer stare back at him.
"Perfectly." He really was staring. And not at Lister's face.
"Erm... OK." Lister fished around in his bed for a beer, on instinct, but there was nothing there.
Rimmer licked his lips. "However..." His eyes blinked rapidly, like they were trying to wash away a particular image.
"Yeah?" Lister swallowed, nervously. The hologram was standing still. Too still.
"I just want to make it perfectly clear that what I am about to do is entirely unconsensual, and bears no concequence whatsoever."
Lister got about as far as 'what the smeg do you...' before Rimmer had rushed across the room to kneel between Lister's legs, holding them apart in a surprisingly strong grip.
"Wha..." Lister tried to get up, but the bunk was hard to get out of, and Rimmer's grip was tight.
"Oh god," Rimmer sighed, pushing Lister's legs even wider apart, and sticking out his tongue. At this point, Lister was paralyzed, and could only watch as holographic saliva dripped from it, disappearing in a display of pretty blue sparks of light as they hit his upper thigh.
"I'm not sure yer..." Lister began, choking on the next potential word as Rimmer lowered his head, and gave a long, lazy lick up Lister's inner thigh. Smeg, that felt good! Which was utterly, utterly sick and wrong, and why couldn't he manage to get up?
"Not..." Rimmer struggled to speak in between bouts of enthusiastic licking, "in controoooh smegging hell, that's tasty!"
'Tasty?' Lister thought, then promptly forgot all about it, as Rimmer's tongue had reached his boxers, and was pushing underneath them insistently. Hands were stroking up and down the outside of his legs, and to his horror and confusion, Lister found he was in the process of getting a rather substantial erection. It tented his boxers embarrassedly, and when Rimmer turned his head to lick his other thigh, the hologram's nose bumped against it, making Lister throw his head back in shock and pleasure.
"Yes," Rimmer moaned, licking down the other way, as Lister watched and prayed to all the gods he did not believe in that his underwear would not be pushed up so high as to reveal the tattoo on his inner thigh. He was not prepared to explain that particular oddity right now. In fairness though, it didn't seem like Rimmer was all that interested in talking. "Smegging bastard," Rimmer mumbled.
"Yeah, you are!" This couldn't go on. Gathering every ounce of his willpower, Lister closed his eyes, and kicked Rimmer in the stomach, hard.
"Well," Kryten said, looking at the scan results, "it was a good thing Mister Rimmer had that little fall. The impact to his bee must have stabilized it. There doesn't appear to be anything wrong with it now. In fact, it looks as good as new."
His face pale and deadpan, Rimmer sat up straight on the medi-bay berth, looking at nothing in particular. "Yes. As I said, I had a minor malfunction, that was all. But it's gone now, so that's all right. Nothing to..." he glanced at Lister, who was chewing his lip guiltily by the door, "worry about. At all." With that, he jumped off the berth, and pushed past Lister into the corridor. When Lister turned to follow, he hissed "What are you staring at, smeg-breath? I thought your legs were lollies, OK? Just a malfunction. Legion goited me up. Smegged up my thinking. Made me see things that weren't there. Now leave me alone!"
And Lister, his gut hurting like he had been on the recieving end of his own foot, did.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't make money from.
Spoilers: Legion
Notes: A silly little quickie, from a scenario suggested by roadstergal. Also written for the 15pairings challenge.
"I don't buy it," Lister said, muching thoughtfully on what Kryten had insisted was a deep-fried king prawn. "He pulls out yer innards just like that, and replaces them with a little gadget, and yer fine?"
Rimmer, in the process of searching through the meager collection of clothes available on the tiny lander, did not look up. "More than 'fine', Listy. I feel fantastic." He lifted a red leather mini-skirt out of the pile, and turned to look at Lister questioningly.
Lister shrugged. "It's not mine. A lot of these are just things Cat dragged in from various derelicts, you know. He uses them to make other things out of." Rimmer kept staring, and finally Lister stalked over and tore the skirt from his hands. "I said, it's not mine!"
Rimmer snorted. "It wouldn't have surprised me if it was. You've got the hair to match."
"Me locks are not girly, Rimmer. They're not pigtails, you know."
"Yes, well." Rimmer kicked the pile for good measure, giving up. "I wouldn't put it past you to show up with that one day. Pigtails tied up with pretty pink ribbons, and a short red leather mini-skirt. Wouldn't be any stranger than some of your other outfits. Be a damn sight better than walking around in your boxers, like you are now!"
Not taking the obvious bait, Lister swallowed the rest of his dubious prawn, and sat down on his bunk. "Yeah, yeah." He was glad Rimmer hadn't found anything to his taste. He hadn't been particularly happy with the fact that Rimmer was doing this in his quarters. If he'd found anything, he would probably have changed into it, which would mean taking his clothes off, which would mean... Lister shook those nightmareish mental images away. It occurred to him that Rimmer had grown oddly quiet. "You sure yer all right?" he asked, feeling a slight, unexplainable chill seeing Rimmer stare back at him.
"Perfectly." He really was staring. And not at Lister's face.
"Erm... OK." Lister fished around in his bed for a beer, on instinct, but there was nothing there.
Rimmer licked his lips. "However..." His eyes blinked rapidly, like they were trying to wash away a particular image.
"Yeah?" Lister swallowed, nervously. The hologram was standing still. Too still.
"I just want to make it perfectly clear that what I am about to do is entirely unconsensual, and bears no concequence whatsoever."
Lister got about as far as 'what the smeg do you...' before Rimmer had rushed across the room to kneel between Lister's legs, holding them apart in a surprisingly strong grip.
"Wha..." Lister tried to get up, but the bunk was hard to get out of, and Rimmer's grip was tight.
"Oh god," Rimmer sighed, pushing Lister's legs even wider apart, and sticking out his tongue. At this point, Lister was paralyzed, and could only watch as holographic saliva dripped from it, disappearing in a display of pretty blue sparks of light as they hit his upper thigh.
"I'm not sure yer..." Lister began, choking on the next potential word as Rimmer lowered his head, and gave a long, lazy lick up Lister's inner thigh. Smeg, that felt good! Which was utterly, utterly sick and wrong, and why couldn't he manage to get up?
"Not..." Rimmer struggled to speak in between bouts of enthusiastic licking, "in controoooh smegging hell, that's tasty!"
'Tasty?' Lister thought, then promptly forgot all about it, as Rimmer's tongue had reached his boxers, and was pushing underneath them insistently. Hands were stroking up and down the outside of his legs, and to his horror and confusion, Lister found he was in the process of getting a rather substantial erection. It tented his boxers embarrassedly, and when Rimmer turned his head to lick his other thigh, the hologram's nose bumped against it, making Lister throw his head back in shock and pleasure.
"Yes," Rimmer moaned, licking down the other way, as Lister watched and prayed to all the gods he did not believe in that his underwear would not be pushed up so high as to reveal the tattoo on his inner thigh. He was not prepared to explain that particular oddity right now. In fairness though, it didn't seem like Rimmer was all that interested in talking. "Smegging bastard," Rimmer mumbled.
"Yeah, you are!" This couldn't go on. Gathering every ounce of his willpower, Lister closed his eyes, and kicked Rimmer in the stomach, hard.
"Well," Kryten said, looking at the scan results, "it was a good thing Mister Rimmer had that little fall. The impact to his bee must have stabilized it. There doesn't appear to be anything wrong with it now. In fact, it looks as good as new."
His face pale and deadpan, Rimmer sat up straight on the medi-bay berth, looking at nothing in particular. "Yes. As I said, I had a minor malfunction, that was all. But it's gone now, so that's all right. Nothing to..." he glanced at Lister, who was chewing his lip guiltily by the door, "worry about. At all." With that, he jumped off the berth, and pushed past Lister into the corridor. When Lister turned to follow, he hissed "What are you staring at, smeg-breath? I thought your legs were lollies, OK? Just a malfunction. Legion goited me up. Smegged up my thinking. Made me see things that weren't there. Now leave me alone!"
And Lister, his gut hurting like he had been on the recieving end of his own foot, did.