reddwarfslash | Fic: Invasion Of Privacy - R/L

Title: Invasion Of Privacy
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, or any of the characters thereof. I make no money from this.
Spoilers: None
Notes: Originally written for the Red Dwarf Anonymous Kink Meme - come join us, if you haven't already!

Rushing over and feeling under the mattress for Rimmer's autoscribe diary wasn't the first thing Lister did when Rimmer left the room. He was a cool, laid-back 23rd century guy, after all - he could control himself. No, Lister didn't even look in the direction of Rimmer's bunk. Instead, he sat down at the table, and began to fiddle with the yarn and knitting needles he had found up on D-deck the other day. When, after half an hour, all he had managed to do was tie himself to the needles, Lister grunted, untangled himself, and finally rushed over.

Rimmer's diary was the best entertainment there was on the ship, not that this was saying much. Lister only got it out when Rimmer was off on one of his stupid expeditions in Starbug. For one thing, Rimmer always took Kryten with him, which was handy, as Kryten always spotted him, and wasn't capable of lying. On top of which, his leg jiggled like a love-sick labrador when he was trying to keep the truth from someone. Even Rimmer could spot that a mile off. For another, Lister wasn't the speediest of readers, and it always took him a day or two to get through what had been written down since the last time he'd gotten his hand on the diary.

It was a little fiddly to work, for those who were not 'differently alive'. There was a physical button, but it was hard to figure out just what it did, and how. Lister knew it well by now, however, and soon he was scrolling down the pages, looking for Rimmer's latest fantasy.

Lister hadn't figured Rimmer for a skilled writer, and he wasn't, really. He was just very, very good with details. It had been a while since Lister had done this last, and there were pages and pages of rants, descriptions of Lister's eating-habits, notes from gaming nights with skutters and long-winded passages of self-doubt, followed by slightly confused self-aggrandizement to go through until he got to the good stuff, which was... there. Lister punched the air in triumph. Jackpot!

She was wearing a peep-hole bra. That much was obvious for that sort of cheeky little way her nipples were poking out at me through her blouse. I just wanted to bury my face in her bosom and... Lister read on with relish. Some of it made him frown and shake his head in confusion, granted; but a lot of it was surprisingly evocative. It was all about McGrueder, of course. Lister wasn't sure if Rimmer had ever been in close contact with another female, and though he tried to write about other women, from time to time, that was always vague and uninteresting. The McGrueder ones were always good though, and this was no exception. Lister giggled as he read it through to the end - it was rather short, just a couple of paragraphs, and Lister was eager for more. He fiddled with the button, impatiently, and suddenly the scribe jumped about twenty pages ahead. Lister swore; backtracking was always difficult on this thing, but then he noticed that he had apparently landed right in the middle of another fantasy. What a stroke of luck. Grinning, he settled down in Rimmer's bunk - it was the largest one, after all, and easier to get to - and started reading

naked body. The passage began, which Lister found rather promising. He read on.

That skin. I can't stop thinking about it. It's insane. I've tried everything. So soft. I mean, not that I know it's soft, Lister raised an eyebrow. This was new. but I can't stop thinking about how soft it would feel like if I could touch it. Which I can't. Which is a good thing, because why should I want to touch it?

Lister sat up a little. This wasn't one of the usual fantasies. Normally, when Rimmer was trying to describe someone he hadn't slept with, he gave up rather quickly, and he certainly didn't ramble on like this. Lister scrolled down a bit. There were pages and pages of this; it would take days to get through. Impatient, Lister tried to skim it, looking for the naughty parts. Ah. This seemed to be it.

And those lips are so smegging lickable it should be a crime. In fact, I'm pretty sure it is, on Io. We didn't stand for things like that, back home. I don't stand for things like that, do I? Except - oh smeg - I do, don't I? Just thinking about this makes me harder than an atronavigations pop-quiz. Yes; I need to think about that. Distract myself. If not, I'll just start imagining those thighs again. Strong. Light brown. Always smegging there!

Lister was starting to get a very bad feeling about this, but like he was passing a traffic accident, he just couldn't look away.

Normal people wear trousers in front of their superior officers. The lack of respect is just... just...

No, Lister thought. No way is it me he's talking about. It must be someone else, from back when the crew was alive. He's been here a lot longer than me, he has got to be remembering somebody else. Lister tried to push the fact that the only person Rimmer had ever out-ranked on Red Dwarf was himself carefully to the back of his mind.

I keep seeing him - oh smeg, it was a him, Lister thought - in my mind. On his knees in front of me, those bastard, goited lips wrapped around my - oh - sucking, licking. Smeg, yes. And he wold finish me off, and I keep him there, make him start over again, until I came again, and again - oh my.

There was something wrong with this, Lister realized, looking at the text askew. This was nothing like Rimmer's normally controlled, somber descriptions. It was almost as if... a chill ran down his spine. The auto-scribe worked by recording whatever Rimmer was saying. Which meant Rimmer had his hands free. And even though he couldn't touch anything, he could touch himself. And the scribe wouldn't stop recording unless Rimmer told it to. Which he wouldn't, if he was otherwise engaged. Lister's hands were shaking, but he didn't put the scribe down.

His mouth... on me. Those eyes, looking up. Shutting the smeg up for once. This would make him shut up. I would make him shut up. Make him pay attention. Make him do things. Thing. Oh. Listy. Lister. "Lister!"

It took Lister a while to realize that his name had actually been spoken. He jolted to an upright position, nearly banging his head on the top of the bunk. Rimmer was standing in the doorway, looking irate.

"Are you reading my diary again?"

He doesn't know, Lister thought. There's no possible way he can know, and still be standing there like that. It must have been an accident; he must not have realized it was recording. "Of course not," he lied, desperately flicking back through the pages.

"Get me that," Rimmer yelled at a skutter, who clicked at him defiantly, but drove over to nudge at Lister's hand, nevertheless. Lister gave it the scribe, and petted its maw.

"I wasn't reading it, ya know. Who cares about yer kinky fantasies about McGrueder!"

Rimmer darkened to a shade of crimson, motioned to the skutter wordlessly, and marched out.

Lister waited until he was gone, then bit his lip, and headed for the shower.