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reddwarfslashTitle: Some Getting Used To
Pairing: Rimmer/Hollister
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Be very, very glad I don't own Red Dwarf. That I don't make money from it should be obvious.
Spoilers: Only The Good...
Notes: An AU version of the mirror-universe bed-scene in VIII. I really am very, very sorry. Happy Halloween though. ;)
As the sound of tentative knocking at the door, Rimmer jumped into the Captain's bed and slipped under the covers with the speed of someone who had made weaseling out of things into an art-form,. Oh, that felt good, in so many ways... The sheets were sleek and soft, almost caressing his body. It was very tempting to just lie back and allow himself a nap, just a little nap. After all, it would take a while for even the vilest of substances to eat an entire ship, wouldn't it? He deserved some rest, a little down-time, a little Arnie-J-time; a little not-smegging being annoyed and bothered to death by Lister time!
The knocking, a little more insistent this time, interrupted Rimmer's indignant reveries. “Yes?” He yelled, sharply. The door opened just enough to allow a pathetic, subservient and very familiar looking face inside.
“Sorry to disturb you Sir,” the face mumbled. Rimmer tried desperately to control his instincts, which were telling him to get the smeg out of bed and grovel before this man who looked enough like Captain Hollister that his wife would not be able to tell the difference yelling at him over the video-phone.
“What... er...” Rimmer managed. The face looked down, nervously.
“May I come in, Captain Rimmer?”
Captain! Of course – this was a mirror universe; everything was opposite. Several things occurred to Rimmer in rapid succession – one, he was an officer. Two, he had that smegging son-of-a-goit Hollister at his mercy. All right; so it wasn't the same Hollister that had done everything he could to hinder Rimmer's career and make his life miserable, but it was close enough, and close enough was good enough for Arnold J.! Three... Rimmer waved Hollister away, mumbling “wait a moment,” reaching out and slamming the door closed on his nose when he didn't move fast enough. With trembling hands, he lifted the duvet, and undid the clasp on his belt, which confusingly now opened to the other side. Slowly, he unbuttoned his fly, and stared, dumbstruck at its contents. “Well,” he muttered, “that will take some getting used to...”
“Sir?” The muffled, whiny voice of Hollister seeped through the door, and Rimmer hurriedly replaced the duvet.
“Yes; yes – come in!”
Hollister shuffled in the door, handing him a drink and sprouting off some nonsense about paperwork – all blatantly obvious arse-licking, Rimmer thought, not really paying attention. And the man was clearly trying to smuggle in a Free Pardon form among the myriad of others he was asking Rimmer to sign. With a thrill that ran all the way from the nape of his neck, down his spine and ending somewhere in the vicinity of his tail-bone, Rimmer tore out the false directive and threw it away. The way Hollister's sallow face fell; the surprised hiss of his sudden exhale – well, it was like the most beautiful Hammond organ symphony to Rimmer's ears. “Want to be an officer, do you, laddie?” He flicked an errant piece of paper into Hollister's left eye.
“Of course,” the sad little man spluttered, his hand flying to his face, “Oh, sir, could I? One day, could I be?”
Rimmer put a finger to his lips, pretending to mull this over. “I'm sorry to say so, miladdo, but really is looking rather bleak at the moment.”
Looking as though he was about to cry – really, Rimmer thought, a grown man, it was disgusting – Hollister's lower lip began to tremble. “Gee, Sir, that's awful harsh, don't'cha think? I'll work hard at it, honestly I will! That form there was just a fluke, I don't know how it got in there, honest I didn't...”
Rimmer shook his head. “I'm afraid there's nothing doing.” He paused, for just the right amount of time, savoring the moment. “Unless...”
“What? Oh really, Sir; I'd do anything...”
He really was a wet, weak smegger, wasn't he? Rimmer sniffed, and threw the duvet aside nonchalantly. Hollister made a sort of gurgling, gasping noise, dropping the rest of his papers and his clipboard on the floor. He seemed torn between bending down to pick it up and staying where he was, staring at Rimmer's... yes, he had an erection. A big, intimidating, huge, pulsing monster of an erection. And what of it? It was the power of it all; the very real, intoxicating feeling of having someone completely at his mercy. Rimmer shifted a little on the bed, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “What are you staring at, laddie?”
Was he drooling? What was the man; some kind of pervert? Rimmer frowned for a moment as he felt his control slipping, but it was merely temporary. He was Captain Rimmer, wasn't he? Well, at least for the moment, he was. And this was a nobody, a twoking gay saddo! In no way was Rimmer going to let Hollister spoil Rimmer's enjoyment over taking advantage of him! As if to re-assert himself, Rimmer jumped out of bed and advanced towards the shaking Hollister. “Sir?” the pervert cried, pushing up against the wall. Rimmer sneered a grin in return.
“On your knees, Mr. Officer-material.” Rimmer kept his voice curt, commanding, simple. And it seemed to work; the other man dropped with a sickening thud, staring up at him. And before Rimmer had time to worry if he had – perhaps – not thought this entirely through, slobbering lips were completely enveloping him. And yes it felt good... in a disturbing, disgusting sort of way. It was as though his body was trying to enjoy itself while his brain was desperately protesting that he should be thoroughly, thoroughly disgusted. All he could do was stand there, wobbling slightly as a sort of hesitant suction began, trying not to look down.
It didn't stop. Normally, Rimmer would have come once or twice by now, but his body seemed to have changed in more ways than penis-size. The clumsy, erratic licks that Rimmer was closing his eyes very tightly and trying to pretend were McGrueder, that hot little blonde navigation officer that he'd done rather early in his sexual-magnetism virus orgy; anyone but smegging Captain (no, not Captain, not here) Hollister. Hell, even Lister would be preferable to those flabby, fumbling lips and hands. Maybe he could fake it? He'd heard that women did, sometimes. But no, the lack of – oh, smeg help him - semen (hot, his mind said, squirting)would be a dead give-away. Instead, Rimmer bit his lip and looked at the ceiling, waiting for his over-sized cock to give in to nature. He found himself wishing there was a way for him to close his ears without holding his hands against them; the way Hollister was huffing and slurping was making him rather nauseous. Oh, for heaven's sake, this was ridiculous. Rimmer gathered his resources, and was about to open his mouth when the door opened once again. His carefully constructed snarky dismissal caught in his mouth, transforming into a feeble, stuttering “glurgh,” as he gaped at the figure in the doorway.
“Captain,” the mustachioed but unmistakably Listerine man exclaimed, “joo shood be in behd! Ah've behn verrah worr'd bout'...” his eyes took in the scene on the floor in all it's glorious detail. “Ah sayh!” The mustache danced in a cheeky grin. “By joahve – joo've stahted wihaout mee?”
Pairing: Rimmer/Hollister
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Be very, very glad I don't own Red Dwarf. That I don't make money from it should be obvious.
Spoilers: Only The Good...
Notes: An AU version of the mirror-universe bed-scene in VIII. I really am very, very sorry. Happy Halloween though. ;)
As the sound of tentative knocking at the door, Rimmer jumped into the Captain's bed and slipped under the covers with the speed of someone who had made weaseling out of things into an art-form,. Oh, that felt good, in so many ways... The sheets were sleek and soft, almost caressing his body. It was very tempting to just lie back and allow himself a nap, just a little nap. After all, it would take a while for even the vilest of substances to eat an entire ship, wouldn't it? He deserved some rest, a little down-time, a little Arnie-J-time; a little not-smegging being annoyed and bothered to death by Lister time!
The knocking, a little more insistent this time, interrupted Rimmer's indignant reveries. “Yes?” He yelled, sharply. The door opened just enough to allow a pathetic, subservient and very familiar looking face inside.
“Sorry to disturb you Sir,” the face mumbled. Rimmer tried desperately to control his instincts, which were telling him to get the smeg out of bed and grovel before this man who looked enough like Captain Hollister that his wife would not be able to tell the difference yelling at him over the video-phone.
“What... er...” Rimmer managed. The face looked down, nervously.
“May I come in, Captain Rimmer?”
Captain! Of course – this was a mirror universe; everything was opposite. Several things occurred to Rimmer in rapid succession – one, he was an officer. Two, he had that smegging son-of-a-goit Hollister at his mercy. All right; so it wasn't the same Hollister that had done everything he could to hinder Rimmer's career and make his life miserable, but it was close enough, and close enough was good enough for Arnold J.! Three... Rimmer waved Hollister away, mumbling “wait a moment,” reaching out and slamming the door closed on his nose when he didn't move fast enough. With trembling hands, he lifted the duvet, and undid the clasp on his belt, which confusingly now opened to the other side. Slowly, he unbuttoned his fly, and stared, dumbstruck at its contents. “Well,” he muttered, “that will take some getting used to...”
“Sir?” The muffled, whiny voice of Hollister seeped through the door, and Rimmer hurriedly replaced the duvet.
“Yes; yes – come in!”
Hollister shuffled in the door, handing him a drink and sprouting off some nonsense about paperwork – all blatantly obvious arse-licking, Rimmer thought, not really paying attention. And the man was clearly trying to smuggle in a Free Pardon form among the myriad of others he was asking Rimmer to sign. With a thrill that ran all the way from the nape of his neck, down his spine and ending somewhere in the vicinity of his tail-bone, Rimmer tore out the false directive and threw it away. The way Hollister's sallow face fell; the surprised hiss of his sudden exhale – well, it was like the most beautiful Hammond organ symphony to Rimmer's ears. “Want to be an officer, do you, laddie?” He flicked an errant piece of paper into Hollister's left eye.
“Of course,” the sad little man spluttered, his hand flying to his face, “Oh, sir, could I? One day, could I be?”
Rimmer put a finger to his lips, pretending to mull this over. “I'm sorry to say so, miladdo, but really is looking rather bleak at the moment.”
Looking as though he was about to cry – really, Rimmer thought, a grown man, it was disgusting – Hollister's lower lip began to tremble. “Gee, Sir, that's awful harsh, don't'cha think? I'll work hard at it, honestly I will! That form there was just a fluke, I don't know how it got in there, honest I didn't...”
Rimmer shook his head. “I'm afraid there's nothing doing.” He paused, for just the right amount of time, savoring the moment. “Unless...”
“What? Oh really, Sir; I'd do anything...”
He really was a wet, weak smegger, wasn't he? Rimmer sniffed, and threw the duvet aside nonchalantly. Hollister made a sort of gurgling, gasping noise, dropping the rest of his papers and his clipboard on the floor. He seemed torn between bending down to pick it up and staying where he was, staring at Rimmer's... yes, he had an erection. A big, intimidating, huge, pulsing monster of an erection. And what of it? It was the power of it all; the very real, intoxicating feeling of having someone completely at his mercy. Rimmer shifted a little on the bed, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “What are you staring at, laddie?”
Was he drooling? What was the man; some kind of pervert? Rimmer frowned for a moment as he felt his control slipping, but it was merely temporary. He was Captain Rimmer, wasn't he? Well, at least for the moment, he was. And this was a nobody, a twoking gay saddo! In no way was Rimmer going to let Hollister spoil Rimmer's enjoyment over taking advantage of him! As if to re-assert himself, Rimmer jumped out of bed and advanced towards the shaking Hollister. “Sir?” the pervert cried, pushing up against the wall. Rimmer sneered a grin in return.
“On your knees, Mr. Officer-material.” Rimmer kept his voice curt, commanding, simple. And it seemed to work; the other man dropped with a sickening thud, staring up at him. And before Rimmer had time to worry if he had – perhaps – not thought this entirely through, slobbering lips were completely enveloping him. And yes it felt good... in a disturbing, disgusting sort of way. It was as though his body was trying to enjoy itself while his brain was desperately protesting that he should be thoroughly, thoroughly disgusted. All he could do was stand there, wobbling slightly as a sort of hesitant suction began, trying not to look down.
It didn't stop. Normally, Rimmer would have come once or twice by now, but his body seemed to have changed in more ways than penis-size. The clumsy, erratic licks that Rimmer was closing his eyes very tightly and trying to pretend were McGrueder, that hot little blonde navigation officer that he'd done rather early in his sexual-magnetism virus orgy; anyone but smegging Captain (no, not Captain, not here) Hollister. Hell, even Lister would be preferable to those flabby, fumbling lips and hands. Maybe he could fake it? He'd heard that women did, sometimes. But no, the lack of – oh, smeg help him - semen (hot, his mind said, squirting)would be a dead give-away. Instead, Rimmer bit his lip and looked at the ceiling, waiting for his over-sized cock to give in to nature. He found himself wishing there was a way for him to close his ears without holding his hands against them; the way Hollister was huffing and slurping was making him rather nauseous. Oh, for heaven's sake, this was ridiculous. Rimmer gathered his resources, and was about to open his mouth when the door opened once again. His carefully constructed snarky dismissal caught in his mouth, transforming into a feeble, stuttering “glurgh,” as he gaped at the figure in the doorway.
“Captain,” the mustachioed but unmistakably Listerine man exclaimed, “joo shood be in behd! Ah've behn verrah worr'd bout'...” his eyes took in the scene on the floor in all it's glorious detail. “Ah sayh!” The mustache danced in a cheeky grin. “By joahve – joo've stahted wihaout mee?”
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no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 11:12 pm (UTC)Man that was an image.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 08:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 11:35 pm (UTC)These people at work are going to wonder what the hell is wrong with me.
Can't say much more at the moment (busy) but ... *giggles*
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 08:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 02:06 am (UTC)More later, but the people at the bus stop are giving me funny looks.
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Date: 2006-11-01 04:22 am (UTC)Oh, indeed... :)
The way Hollister's sallow face fell; the surprised hiss of his sudden exhale – well, it was like the most beautiful Hammond organ symphony to Rimmer's ears.
Hee!
A big, intimidating, huge, pulsing monster of an erection.
The contents of Rimmer's wet dreams. But he's totally straight.
The details of the fellatio! Dear lord, that was just a little too good. ;D
And last paragraph love. Such last paragraph love.
(Niggly little grammar things, if you want them.)
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 09:07 am (UTC)Oh, good... erm... or bad. Or... *eeeeeep* I tried not to put too many details in there, but I was so deep into Rimmer's psyche (it's scary in there!) that he insisted I record everything.
This is a very terrifying AU indeed. I think I don't want to know any more about it.
I'm sure there are! In fact I know there are; if I could have typed up this thing with my eyes closed, I would...
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Date: 2006-11-01 09:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 08:44 am (UTC)And the ending... squirel!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 09:07 am (UTC)