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reddwarfslash2007-11-22 11:54 pm
kahvi.livejournal.com) wrote in reddwarfslash2007-11-22 11:54 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Turning On - Rimmer/Queeg - NC-17
Title: Turning On
Pairing: Rimmer/Queeg, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: NC-17; mild non-con, mild BDSM.
Disclaimer: Grant/Naylor owns Red Dwarf, I don't. They make money from it. Me, not so much.
Spoilers: Queeg, natch.
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sunny_bexster asked, and like a fool, I had to try. Eeep. As always, concrit is shiny!
Lister watched the single can of lager roll back and forth across the table, between his hands. He didn't want to pick it up and drink it, because then it would be gone, and smeg knew when he'd get his hands on one next. He bit his lip, trying not to think about cool, amber liquid gushing down his throat; the fine mist that would spray across his face as he opened the tab. This Queeg thing was getting out of hand.
"I think he fancies me."
"What?" Lister looked up, and right into Rimmer's nervously twitching nostrils. He scooted back in his chair, startled. It was not a sight to endure sober, or indeed, at all.
"Queeg." Rimmer folded his arms, stepping out of the door-frame and shuddering. "I think he fancies me."
"What? Get out of town!"
Rimmer shook his head, impatiently. "Look; I know it's hard to believe..."
"That someone fancies ya? Too right!" Lister giggled, thoroughly enjoying the glare the comment earned him.
"It's the way he looks at me. When I'm exercising; the way he runs his eyes up and down my body like I'm grade-A beefcake. It's obscene."
Lister shrugged, giving in to temptation and opening the can. "He probably just likes seeing ya sweat."
Rimmer leaned across the table, gesticulating wildly. "That's exactly what I mean!"
"Not like that, you twonk! He likes seeing you in pain. I don't blame him; so do I." Lister giggled into his beer.
"Yes, that's right; laugh." Rimmer waved an accusatory finger. "But when you wake up in the morning and find me dancing around, dressed in nothing but pink stilettos and garters, we'll see who's the twonk!" The reality of what he'd said hit him, and Rimmer's face fell like a ton of homo-erotic bricks. "Oh smeg," he whimpered, stumbling backwards towards his bunk, where he collapsed in the fetal position.
Lister watched him for a moment or two, then shook his head and, clutching his precious beer, headed off to find the Cat and see if he was up for a game of Durex volleyball. If the condom machines were still working.
Rimmer realized that he had fallen asleep when he was jerked violently awake by the now sickeningly familiar sensation of someone else controlling his body. "What are you doing?" he squeaked, instinctively trying to scuttle away, but his simulated muscles did not obey him.
"The company does not tolerate idleness!" The sharp, commanding voice made Rimmer whimper as he was forced to his feet. He watched in terror as Queeg's face glared at him from the monitor. There was a manic, oddly satisfied gleam in the computer's eye that tickled what was - in Rimmer – merely a flight response, but his body was still under Queeg's unrelenting control, and he was powerless to do anything about it.
"Please," Rimmer mumbled, wanting to hug himself, but his arms hung limply by his side. "What do you want me to do? I'll do it, I promise!"
"What I want you to do, boy, is shut up and let me teach you a lesson! JMC did not revive you so you could snooze the day away like the lazy-ass loser you are!"
"No, sir." A long life of respecting - or as Lister would have it, licking the ass of - authority had left Rimmer with some basic survival skills. When faced with someone like Queeg, the best thing, he knew, was to shut up and just let their rage wash over you until they got bored and left you alone. However, something in the pit of his stomach told Rimmer that Queeg wasn't the type to get bored.
"Shut up! Either you shut up, or I'll make you shut up. Which one is it going to be?" When Rimmer didn't reply, Queeg grinned. Rimmer felt himself starting to shake. "Good! Now you and I are going to have some fun."
Oh dear. 'Fun' was never good. The only thing that was one hundred percent certain about 'fun' in this context was that it wasn't going to be any. Rimmer swallowed, trying to concentrate on his boots. That worked up until the point where they disappeared, blinking out of existence and leaving him barefoot and cold. He looked up, mouth gaping.
"Is there a problem?"
Rimmer shook his head. He shouldn't be feeling cold. His body wasn't really there; it was just a projection. The environment had no impact on it. The only reason he could be feeling cold was if Queeg was making him feel it. The sadistic bastard!
“That's right, there isn't.” Queeg's eyes narrowed. “Fast learner, aren't you? I'm surprised. You wouldn't think so, looking at your academic history.”
Oh, that was below the belt. That was far below the belt and heading into deep scrotum territory. Rimmer's face twitched as he tried to hold it back from forming a scowl. Queeg had grown oddly quiet. He was giving Rimmer that hungry look again, making him feel terribly exposed. Then he grinned again, and Rimmer found himself wishing he'd go back to just looking.
"I heard what you said about me."
"What?" Rimmer started, making a movement that would have pulled a muscle in his neck had he been made of flesh and not photons.
"Your little conversation with your bunk-mate earlier. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm taking about."
Rimmer felt the blood he didn't have drain from his face. "Ah..." he stuttered, licking his lips. They were terribly dry.
"Fool! What are you afraid of? That I'll make you parade around in stockings and underwear? Strip you naked and make you do things to yourself? Is that what you're afraid of?"
Rimmer shook his head, about to utter a timid 'no', when there was a sudden gust of cold air. He looked down at himself, whimpering.
He was naked.
At least it isn't garters, he told himself, just before feeling one of his hands straying towards his groin. Smeg, no, no! On the wall in front of him, Queeg grinned.
"You're loving this, aren't you? Admit it. You love it when someone else is in control. That's because you're lazy, Arnold. You just want to lie back and let other people take charge. You're a coward, and a bastard. A pale, skinny, out-of-shape bastard!"
The hand was rubbing his inner thigh now, and to his horror, Rimmer realized he was growing erect. Could that goited computer control that too? Suddenly, his other hand slapped Rimmmer's left buttock, hard, making him yelp.
"I said, admit it!"
"Yes, sir," Rimmer said, on pure instinct, "I love it, sir!"
"I can't hear you!" The hand slapped again, harder this time.
"I love it, sir!"
Queeg smiled. It was one of the creepiest things Rimmer had ever seen. "That's better." The hand on Rimmer's ass started feeling up and down the cleft between his buttocks, and a horrible, sneaking suspicion entered Rimmer's mind.
"No," he said, before he could stop himself.
Queeg raised an eyebrow. "No?" Before Rimmer could respond, he felt something slick coating his hand, before a finger plunged into his ass and...
"Smeg!" Rimmer cried out, mostly from the shock, but also from unexpected arousal. Pre-come leaked from his now painfully erect cock, and he grabbed it with his free hand, too caught up in it all to notice that control of it had been returned to him. The finger pulsed in and out, and what was wrong with him that he found that so exciting? He wasn't gay, he knew he wasn't, wasn't...
"And now," Queeg announced, casually, "I am going to call Lister in here."
Rimmer's hand froze on his cock, while the finger in his ass kept going, frustratingly. "Nnnnnh!" He protested, through gritted teeth.
"Oh yes." Queeg's voice turned amplified, going out over the ship's main calling system. "David Lister. David Lister. Please report to your quarters. There is an emergency." And with another one of those nasty grins, the computer disappeared from the screen. At the very same moment, Rimmer regained control. He was shivering and horny and aching for release, and completely naked. He could hear Lister's footsteps running down the corridor, and nearly fainted in panic. He just about managed to put his hands protectively in front of his groin before Lister entered, looking flushed and worried.
"What's the emergency?"
Despite everything, Rimmer was surprised. That was not the reaction of a man seeing his bunk-mate naked. When he shifted his hands, and felt them brush against holographic cloth, he realized why. He was fully clothed again. Trying, as best he could, to regain his composure, Rimmer gave a snort. "How am I supposed to know what a half-crazed computer considers an emergency? Maybe the toilet is clogged?"
Rolling his eyes, Lister walked over to sit by the table, beginning a long, rambling story about the difficulties he'd been faced with trying to find a proper condom. It took every ounce of self-control Rimmer had not to start screaming at him.
"We are talking Jape of the Decade." Holly grinned like a madman. Or at least, what Rimmer had thought a madman would grin like before he had met Queeg. "We are talking April, May, June, July, and August Fool. Yes, that's right -- I am Queeg."
"What?" They all exclaimed in unison, listening to the demented machine explain its so-called joke. Rimmer wasn't really paying attention. He mouthed along with the exclamations of shock and horror, but other things were weighing on his mind. When the others left, eventually, scratching their heads and mumbling obscenities, Rimmer stayed behind, staring at the screen.
Holly nodded at him. "What's on your mind, Arnold?"
"You know what's on my smegging mind! Why??"
"Why what?"
"You know what; why did you strip me naked, and... and..." Rimmer swallowed, waving a hand feebly.
Holly narrowed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. "Was that what I did?"
"Yes!" Rimmer didn't feel like elaborating. How could anyone forget something like that? Hadn't Holly just gone through all this in order to prove he wasn't senile?
"Ah well. I expected it must have been something like that."
"Expected?"
"Yeah. I erased it all. What;" Holly raised an eyebrow, "you don't expect me to keep hanging on to memories like that, do you?"
"But why did you do it?"
Shrugs were complicated maneuvers for a head without a neck or shoulders, but Holly tried nonetheless. "Told you, didn't I? To make you appreciate what you've got. Things could be a lot worse, you know."
Closing his eyes, Rimmer pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to think of pleasant things. Morris dancing. Aesthetically pleasing roadside erections. His favorite Hammond organ solos. "Holly," he managed, finally, "computers don't sexually assault crewmembers."
The computer looked almost offended. "Yes they do! The captain of the Singularity escaped by the skin of her teeth when their Reggie locked her in her office and started showing her suggestive videos."
"Reggie?"
"Yeah. Nice bloke; played chess with him once. Always polite, always up for a chat when we met on the spacelanes." Holly shook his head. "It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"
Rimmer sighed. Clearly, this was just going to be yet another entry in log book of his life - and now death's - humiliations. He turned away, and skulked out of the room. Bloody smegging bastard computerized git. They were both machine intelligences; surely they should stick together, not stab one another in the back? At least he hadn't sunk low enough to let Lister see him naked and humiliated. That would have been...
Rimmer stopped. Hang on. Why had Queeg called for Lister? To humiliate him, yes, but the more Rimmer thought about it, the more he realized the scenario had been familiar. Being caught masturbating by Lister... it had happened before, hadn't it? Memories prodded at the back of Rimmer's mind, and suddenly, he had it. He'd dreamed about it. Nightmares, obviously. Horrible, secret nightmares that somehow always had him waking up horny and erect. And Holly knew.
Shuddering, Rimmer walked on, hurriedly, heading towards the diesel decks. After all this, he was in dire need of a holiday.
Pairing: Rimmer/Queeg, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: NC-17; mild non-con, mild BDSM.
Disclaimer: Grant/Naylor owns Red Dwarf, I don't. They make money from it. Me, not so much.
Spoilers: Queeg, natch.
Notes:
sunny_bexster asked, and like a fool, I had to try. Eeep. As always, concrit is shiny! Lister watched the single can of lager roll back and forth across the table, between his hands. He didn't want to pick it up and drink it, because then it would be gone, and smeg knew when he'd get his hands on one next. He bit his lip, trying not to think about cool, amber liquid gushing down his throat; the fine mist that would spray across his face as he opened the tab. This Queeg thing was getting out of hand.
"I think he fancies me."
"What?" Lister looked up, and right into Rimmer's nervously twitching nostrils. He scooted back in his chair, startled. It was not a sight to endure sober, or indeed, at all.
"Queeg." Rimmer folded his arms, stepping out of the door-frame and shuddering. "I think he fancies me."
"What? Get out of town!"
Rimmer shook his head, impatiently. "Look; I know it's hard to believe..."
"That someone fancies ya? Too right!" Lister giggled, thoroughly enjoying the glare the comment earned him.
"It's the way he looks at me. When I'm exercising; the way he runs his eyes up and down my body like I'm grade-A beefcake. It's obscene."
Lister shrugged, giving in to temptation and opening the can. "He probably just likes seeing ya sweat."
Rimmer leaned across the table, gesticulating wildly. "That's exactly what I mean!"
"Not like that, you twonk! He likes seeing you in pain. I don't blame him; so do I." Lister giggled into his beer.
"Yes, that's right; laugh." Rimmer waved an accusatory finger. "But when you wake up in the morning and find me dancing around, dressed in nothing but pink stilettos and garters, we'll see who's the twonk!" The reality of what he'd said hit him, and Rimmer's face fell like a ton of homo-erotic bricks. "Oh smeg," he whimpered, stumbling backwards towards his bunk, where he collapsed in the fetal position.
Lister watched him for a moment or two, then shook his head and, clutching his precious beer, headed off to find the Cat and see if he was up for a game of Durex volleyball. If the condom machines were still working.
Rimmer realized that he had fallen asleep when he was jerked violently awake by the now sickeningly familiar sensation of someone else controlling his body. "What are you doing?" he squeaked, instinctively trying to scuttle away, but his simulated muscles did not obey him.
"The company does not tolerate idleness!" The sharp, commanding voice made Rimmer whimper as he was forced to his feet. He watched in terror as Queeg's face glared at him from the monitor. There was a manic, oddly satisfied gleam in the computer's eye that tickled what was - in Rimmer – merely a flight response, but his body was still under Queeg's unrelenting control, and he was powerless to do anything about it.
"Please," Rimmer mumbled, wanting to hug himself, but his arms hung limply by his side. "What do you want me to do? I'll do it, I promise!"
"What I want you to do, boy, is shut up and let me teach you a lesson! JMC did not revive you so you could snooze the day away like the lazy-ass loser you are!"
"No, sir." A long life of respecting - or as Lister would have it, licking the ass of - authority had left Rimmer with some basic survival skills. When faced with someone like Queeg, the best thing, he knew, was to shut up and just let their rage wash over you until they got bored and left you alone. However, something in the pit of his stomach told Rimmer that Queeg wasn't the type to get bored.
"Shut up! Either you shut up, or I'll make you shut up. Which one is it going to be?" When Rimmer didn't reply, Queeg grinned. Rimmer felt himself starting to shake. "Good! Now you and I are going to have some fun."
Oh dear. 'Fun' was never good. The only thing that was one hundred percent certain about 'fun' in this context was that it wasn't going to be any. Rimmer swallowed, trying to concentrate on his boots. That worked up until the point where they disappeared, blinking out of existence and leaving him barefoot and cold. He looked up, mouth gaping.
"Is there a problem?"
Rimmer shook his head. He shouldn't be feeling cold. His body wasn't really there; it was just a projection. The environment had no impact on it. The only reason he could be feeling cold was if Queeg was making him feel it. The sadistic bastard!
“That's right, there isn't.” Queeg's eyes narrowed. “Fast learner, aren't you? I'm surprised. You wouldn't think so, looking at your academic history.”
Oh, that was below the belt. That was far below the belt and heading into deep scrotum territory. Rimmer's face twitched as he tried to hold it back from forming a scowl. Queeg had grown oddly quiet. He was giving Rimmer that hungry look again, making him feel terribly exposed. Then he grinned again, and Rimmer found himself wishing he'd go back to just looking.
"I heard what you said about me."
"What?" Rimmer started, making a movement that would have pulled a muscle in his neck had he been made of flesh and not photons.
"Your little conversation with your bunk-mate earlier. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm taking about."
Rimmer felt the blood he didn't have drain from his face. "Ah..." he stuttered, licking his lips. They were terribly dry.
"Fool! What are you afraid of? That I'll make you parade around in stockings and underwear? Strip you naked and make you do things to yourself? Is that what you're afraid of?"
Rimmer shook his head, about to utter a timid 'no', when there was a sudden gust of cold air. He looked down at himself, whimpering.
He was naked.
At least it isn't garters, he told himself, just before feeling one of his hands straying towards his groin. Smeg, no, no! On the wall in front of him, Queeg grinned.
"You're loving this, aren't you? Admit it. You love it when someone else is in control. That's because you're lazy, Arnold. You just want to lie back and let other people take charge. You're a coward, and a bastard. A pale, skinny, out-of-shape bastard!"
The hand was rubbing his inner thigh now, and to his horror, Rimmer realized he was growing erect. Could that goited computer control that too? Suddenly, his other hand slapped Rimmmer's left buttock, hard, making him yelp.
"I said, admit it!"
"Yes, sir," Rimmer said, on pure instinct, "I love it, sir!"
"I can't hear you!" The hand slapped again, harder this time.
"I love it, sir!"
Queeg smiled. It was one of the creepiest things Rimmer had ever seen. "That's better." The hand on Rimmer's ass started feeling up and down the cleft between his buttocks, and a horrible, sneaking suspicion entered Rimmer's mind.
"No," he said, before he could stop himself.
Queeg raised an eyebrow. "No?" Before Rimmer could respond, he felt something slick coating his hand, before a finger plunged into his ass and...
"Smeg!" Rimmer cried out, mostly from the shock, but also from unexpected arousal. Pre-come leaked from his now painfully erect cock, and he grabbed it with his free hand, too caught up in it all to notice that control of it had been returned to him. The finger pulsed in and out, and what was wrong with him that he found that so exciting? He wasn't gay, he knew he wasn't, wasn't...
"And now," Queeg announced, casually, "I am going to call Lister in here."
Rimmer's hand froze on his cock, while the finger in his ass kept going, frustratingly. "Nnnnnh!" He protested, through gritted teeth.
"Oh yes." Queeg's voice turned amplified, going out over the ship's main calling system. "David Lister. David Lister. Please report to your quarters. There is an emergency." And with another one of those nasty grins, the computer disappeared from the screen. At the very same moment, Rimmer regained control. He was shivering and horny and aching for release, and completely naked. He could hear Lister's footsteps running down the corridor, and nearly fainted in panic. He just about managed to put his hands protectively in front of his groin before Lister entered, looking flushed and worried.
"What's the emergency?"
Despite everything, Rimmer was surprised. That was not the reaction of a man seeing his bunk-mate naked. When he shifted his hands, and felt them brush against holographic cloth, he realized why. He was fully clothed again. Trying, as best he could, to regain his composure, Rimmer gave a snort. "How am I supposed to know what a half-crazed computer considers an emergency? Maybe the toilet is clogged?"
Rolling his eyes, Lister walked over to sit by the table, beginning a long, rambling story about the difficulties he'd been faced with trying to find a proper condom. It took every ounce of self-control Rimmer had not to start screaming at him.
"We are talking Jape of the Decade." Holly grinned like a madman. Or at least, what Rimmer had thought a madman would grin like before he had met Queeg. "We are talking April, May, June, July, and August Fool. Yes, that's right -- I am Queeg."
"What?" They all exclaimed in unison, listening to the demented machine explain its so-called joke. Rimmer wasn't really paying attention. He mouthed along with the exclamations of shock and horror, but other things were weighing on his mind. When the others left, eventually, scratching their heads and mumbling obscenities, Rimmer stayed behind, staring at the screen.
Holly nodded at him. "What's on your mind, Arnold?"
"You know what's on my smegging mind! Why??"
"Why what?"
"You know what; why did you strip me naked, and... and..." Rimmer swallowed, waving a hand feebly.
Holly narrowed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. "Was that what I did?"
"Yes!" Rimmer didn't feel like elaborating. How could anyone forget something like that? Hadn't Holly just gone through all this in order to prove he wasn't senile?
"Ah well. I expected it must have been something like that."
"Expected?"
"Yeah. I erased it all. What;" Holly raised an eyebrow, "you don't expect me to keep hanging on to memories like that, do you?"
"But why did you do it?"
Shrugs were complicated maneuvers for a head without a neck or shoulders, but Holly tried nonetheless. "Told you, didn't I? To make you appreciate what you've got. Things could be a lot worse, you know."
Closing his eyes, Rimmer pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to think of pleasant things. Morris dancing. Aesthetically pleasing roadside erections. His favorite Hammond organ solos. "Holly," he managed, finally, "computers don't sexually assault crewmembers."
The computer looked almost offended. "Yes they do! The captain of the Singularity escaped by the skin of her teeth when their Reggie locked her in her office and started showing her suggestive videos."
"Reggie?"
"Yeah. Nice bloke; played chess with him once. Always polite, always up for a chat when we met on the spacelanes." Holly shook his head. "It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"
Rimmer sighed. Clearly, this was just going to be yet another entry in log book of his life - and now death's - humiliations. He turned away, and skulked out of the room. Bloody smegging bastard computerized git. They were both machine intelligences; surely they should stick together, not stab one another in the back? At least he hadn't sunk low enough to let Lister see him naked and humiliated. That would have been...
Rimmer stopped. Hang on. Why had Queeg called for Lister? To humiliate him, yes, but the more Rimmer thought about it, the more he realized the scenario had been familiar. Being caught masturbating by Lister... it had happened before, hadn't it? Memories prodded at the back of Rimmer's mind, and suddenly, he had it. He'd dreamed about it. Nightmares, obviously. Horrible, secret nightmares that somehow always had him waking up horny and erect. And Holly knew.
Shuddering, Rimmer walked on, hurriedly, heading towards the diesel decks. After all this, he was in dire need of a holiday.
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*hic*
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It's marvelous my dear! Truly marvelous - It's interesting that the respect Rimmer has for Holly (male or female) is so low, you'd think - given that he is utterly subservient to the Hologrammatic Projection processors, controlled by Holly - he'd treat the computer with a little more gratitude...
And you got Rimmer/Lister in there too! Oh, the joy!
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Glad you got a kick out of it - I had fun, or possibly 'fun', writing it! Thanks for reading and feeding back.
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Haha... Excellent scary-Holly-logic.
BTW, now I'm thinking about Holly/Rimmer.
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"But when you wake up in the morning and find me dancing around, dressed in nothing but pink stilettos and garters, we'll see who's the twonk!" What an image!
Rimmer freaking out about being gay, freaking out about Lister coming in...perfect. Well, the whole thing is very very good. :)