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reddwarfslash2008-07-22 04:46 am
kahvi.livejournal.com) wrote in reddwarfslash2008-07-22 04:46 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Sleep Of The Innocent - R/L (imp) - PG-13
Title: Sleep Of The Innocent
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Red Dwarf. Nor do I make any money from this fannish venture.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: I'm jetlagged and up too late, so I wrote a flash fic.
"Smegging, goited, useless git..." Rimmer mumbled, shifting his simulated weight from foot to foot.
This was sloth on an impressive scale, even for Lister. Shirtless, he lay sprawled across the bunk, his head lolling backwards, mouth open at an angle creating an optimal acoustic environment for his buzz-saw in echo-chamber-type snores. One foot (booted, of course, the laces dangling free, as in mockery) was tangled in the sheets, while the other dangled over the edge, as careless as its owner. Depressingly, this was not the worst of it. The hand that did not have its thumb stuck in Lister's mouth - yet more evidence that the man was an overgrown child - was stuck underneath the hem of his partially unbuttoned trousers. Obscene. And where was this scene of lethargy pornography taking place? Why, in Rimmer's bunk. Marvelous. Smegging fantastic.
Rimmer didn't understand it. Lister had a perfectly good bunk of his own. The fact that it was on a higher level should not have any impact on where the bum chose to collapse after a night of drunken whatever-it-was; contrary to all logic and known medical science, Lister seemed to grow more agile as the alcohol content in his blood increased. Rimmer had once seen him jump from the floor and onto his bunk, backwards, after five lagers and half a bottle of gin. But did he use it? Did he smeg. No, every time he ended up on a drunken binge of epic proportions, chances were fifty/fifty that he'd end up like this... Rimmer paused in his mental tirade, narrowing his eyes. Like this. No, not entirely like this. Something was off.
Walking closer carefully - a doubly pointless gesture, as his feet made no sound, and nothing save a red alert would wake Lister at this point, and even that was debatable - Rimmer crouched down, coming face to - well - crotch with Lister's groin. The git's hand wasn't just inside the hem of his trousers, it was well inside his underpants, the bulge there noticeably larger than usual - not that Rimmer made a habit of checking, of course. Well. That was new.
Tugging on the edge of his uniform shirt to straighten it, Rimmer stood up. Well. Well well. There really only was one reason a man in the state Lister must have been in tonight would have stuck his hand that far down his underpants. The bastard had been about to have a wank just before he lost consciousness. Thinking of Kochanski, no doubt. In Rimmer's bunk! Rimmer felt blood rush to his cheeks and various other parts of his body he tried not to pay attention to. The... the bloody nerve of the man! Having a wank to thoughts of Kochanski in Rimmer's bed, that big, thick thumb jammed in his mouth, like...
Lister stirred in his sleep, the digit slipping in and out of his mouth, slightly. He moaned quietly around it, his back arching ever-so-slightly.
Rimmer swallowed, then stumbled backwards out of the room, shutting his eyes. He'd go sleep in corridor C. On the other side of the ship. He would need that distance to escape Lister's snores, anyway.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Red Dwarf. Nor do I make any money from this fannish venture.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: I'm jetlagged and up too late, so I wrote a flash fic.
"Smegging, goited, useless git..." Rimmer mumbled, shifting his simulated weight from foot to foot.
This was sloth on an impressive scale, even for Lister. Shirtless, he lay sprawled across the bunk, his head lolling backwards, mouth open at an angle creating an optimal acoustic environment for his buzz-saw in echo-chamber-type snores. One foot (booted, of course, the laces dangling free, as in mockery) was tangled in the sheets, while the other dangled over the edge, as careless as its owner. Depressingly, this was not the worst of it. The hand that did not have its thumb stuck in Lister's mouth - yet more evidence that the man was an overgrown child - was stuck underneath the hem of his partially unbuttoned trousers. Obscene. And where was this scene of lethargy pornography taking place? Why, in Rimmer's bunk. Marvelous. Smegging fantastic.
Rimmer didn't understand it. Lister had a perfectly good bunk of his own. The fact that it was on a higher level should not have any impact on where the bum chose to collapse after a night of drunken whatever-it-was; contrary to all logic and known medical science, Lister seemed to grow more agile as the alcohol content in his blood increased. Rimmer had once seen him jump from the floor and onto his bunk, backwards, after five lagers and half a bottle of gin. But did he use it? Did he smeg. No, every time he ended up on a drunken binge of epic proportions, chances were fifty/fifty that he'd end up like this... Rimmer paused in his mental tirade, narrowing his eyes. Like this. No, not entirely like this. Something was off.
Walking closer carefully - a doubly pointless gesture, as his feet made no sound, and nothing save a red alert would wake Lister at this point, and even that was debatable - Rimmer crouched down, coming face to - well - crotch with Lister's groin. The git's hand wasn't just inside the hem of his trousers, it was well inside his underpants, the bulge there noticeably larger than usual - not that Rimmer made a habit of checking, of course. Well. That was new.
Tugging on the edge of his uniform shirt to straighten it, Rimmer stood up. Well. Well well. There really only was one reason a man in the state Lister must have been in tonight would have stuck his hand that far down his underpants. The bastard had been about to have a wank just before he lost consciousness. Thinking of Kochanski, no doubt. In Rimmer's bunk! Rimmer felt blood rush to his cheeks and various other parts of his body he tried not to pay attention to. The... the bloody nerve of the man! Having a wank to thoughts of Kochanski in Rimmer's bed, that big, thick thumb jammed in his mouth, like...
Lister stirred in his sleep, the digit slipping in and out of his mouth, slightly. He moaned quietly around it, his back arching ever-so-slightly.
Rimmer swallowed, then stumbled backwards out of the room, shutting his eyes. He'd go sleep in corridor C. On the other side of the ship. He would need that distance to escape Lister's snores, anyway.
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Thanks for reading! :D
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(Anonymous) 2008-07-22 11:38 am (UTC)(link)no subject
Lister stirred in his sleep, the digit slipping in and out of his mouth, slightly. Oh, dear.
That icon always makes me giggle. :P
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Thank you very much - I'm glad you enjoyed it!
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Also: He'd go sleep in corridor C. On the other side of the ship. He would need that distance to escape Lister's snores, anyway. - this is so brilliantly Rimmer.
Genius.
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*gives cookie*
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