Fic: A Matter of Perspective - R - R/L

[kahvi.livejournal.com]

Title: A Matter of Perspective
Rating: R
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Red Dwarf. Nor do I make any money from this fannish venture.
Spoilers: Bodyswap
Notes: For sunny_bexster, who has been a very good girl, with belated birthday wishes!



Lister squinted at the silhouette his body cast on the shower door. He would never get used to this. He should never have to get used to this, because not being inside yourself wasn't something you should have to get smegging used to, was it? All right, so it was his own fault for agreeing to the swap in the first place, but standing here, watching his own body being subjected to smeg knew what, none of the arguments Rimmer had thrown at him at the time seemed at all compelling anymore.

"I'm going to have this dirt carbon-dated," Rimmer's agitated voice rang out.

Lister shifted, uncomfortably. What was Rmmer doing in there? Various bottles of something-or-other were being waved about, their contents – presumably – deposited in some way on Lister's body. Lister shuddered. You couldn't really see anything through the door, because that was what shower doors were for, and the lack of a proper view made Lister all the more nervous about how his own flesh was being manhandled. Oh, he couldn't stay here, watching impotently! Gritting his teeth, or rather Rimmer's, (which were the wrong shape, and moved in unfamiliar ways when he tried to chew with them) Lister turned to leave.

It was when he realized he'd walked right through the table that he got the idea.



As a hologram, Lister knew, having been forced by Holly to sit through the introductory lecture all new holograms were shown upon activation, he had within him a small, self-propelling bee, which buzzed around projecting his image. You could project holograms without them, and Holly frequently did. However, as they allowed holograms a measure of control over their own projections, she had ended up giving Rimmer one to stop him, as she put it, bothering her whenever he needed a haircut or a change of clothes. Which meant, consequently, that Holly wouldn't constantly be looking over Lister's shoulder, which was good, considering what he was planning. There were drawbacks, though.

You couldn't walk through walls, that was the thing. You could try, but your bee would flit around the other side, confusedly bouncing your image back and forth. And so, Lister found himself needing a helping hand, or rather maw. Feeling somewhat guilty for involving the thing, Lister stepped into the hallway, and waved a skutter over.

"Open that for me, would ye?" Lister gestured to the door to the adjacent quarters. The little robot clicked its maw delightedly, happy to be of service. Lister bent down to pet it on the head, remembering just in time, and rising with a sigh. The skutter whirred in confusion, but Lister gave it a friendly wave, and it hurried off, to do whatever it was skutters did on their own time. Lister never inquired into it. He was sure the skutters wouldn't care to know what he was about to do, either. Frankly, Lister wished he didn't know himself.

Slipping into the other quarters just as the door slid shut again, Lister walked straight towards the shower cubicle. He was thankful to see that the door was open – another aspect of this plan he hadn't thought through completely. Then again, he didn't have much to work with, did he? The walls were thicker than those in their old, enlisted crew's quarters, but Lister could still hear the sound of running water, and Rimmer's huffs of frustration if he walked up to the wall, and stood real close. The showers had been built adjacent to one another, possibly for plumbing reasons. Lister had found this out during his one stay overnight in Kochanski's quarters, when, in the shower, they'd heard the antics of the people next door, who were apparently more than just bunk-mates.

Well, he thought. Here goes… whatever I've got.

Slowly, he moved his face towards the tiled wall surface. There was an instinct to stop, when his eyeballs were almost touching the tiles, as far as his brain was concerned, but Lister inched closer, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the face and chest of his borrowed body was inside the wall, what passed for its eyes registering nothing but darkness. He swallowed, his mouth feeling inexplicably dry. He had to judge this very carefully. If he stayed just at the edge of the wall, he should be able to see through it, while still being fairly undetectable to the occupant of the room. It was risky, certainly, but this was Rimmer, after all! Rimmer let loose in his body, Rimmer doing smeg knows what to it in the name of cleanliness, running his hands all over it… determined, Lister pushed just a little bit further… and there was light.



It wasn't like seeing yourself in the mirror, or in pictures, or even in a holo-vid, not that Lister had ever been holo-vidded. In front of Lister's eyes - or at least the eyes he was using - was Lister. The thing was, you hardly ever saw yourself from behind. Some of Lister's posher girlfriends had dressed in front of memory-mirrors, which would record your image and show it back to you, animated, from which ever angle you preferred. Lister had refused to use it, not liking the idea of his body, even just the image of it, being stored somewhere, out of his control. Why hadn't he thought of that, when Rimmer had made his goited suggestion?

Naked, it was even harder to imagine Rimmer being in there. He had stopped fidgeting about and complaining, and now merely stood still, letting the water wash over him. If Lister didn't know any better, he'd've thought the smegger was enjoying himself. The water had soaked into Lister's thick locks, weighting them down as they slithered down his back. Streams of water flowed alongside them, pooling, for a moment, at the base of his spine, before moving downwards. Inside the wall, Lister shook his head. This was getting a little too weird. He should get out of there. Right now.

"Smegging things," Rimmer mumbled, reaching back, and wringing the water out of the locks with one hand. "Always in the way."

He wouldn't. All thoughts of escape was gone from Lister's mind now - his locks was at stake here! He couldn't risk Rimmer hacking it off the moment Lister turned his back on him. Of course, in order to save them, he would have to reveal that he'd been hiding here, which might prove difficult to explain. As Lister considered this, Rimmer half-turned, revealing what was, to Lister's mind, an unimpressive profile. A sinking feeling was simulated in his gut at the sight of that chest just on the verge of sagging, that far-from-flat stomach and the distinct impression of a double chin. Maybe... maybe he was being paranoid about this. Rimmer was a fit man, after all, if a little bit reedy. He'd get Lister's body in shape without even trying, wouldn't he? Lister's hands fell to the body he was inhabiting, patting the sides and hips. It felt odd; alien, far too firm, which only depressed him. This was what a man was supposed to look like. Feel like. Whatever. Absent-mindedly, Lister ran a hand up underneath his t-shirt, feeling Rimmer's abs. This stomach was virtually concave. Not at all like... no, hang on!

Lost in thought, Lister had not noticed what Rimmer was actually doing. He was standing very, very still, one hand clutching the shower fixture, the other moving slowly down the side of Lister's body. Lister swallowed, his own hand freezing on Rimmer's abdomen. Well, OK. The man had been incorporeal for years - it was only natural that he'd explore all those newfound sensations a little bit. Stood to reason. But he wouldn't... He was. As Lister stood, watching helplessly, Rimmer eased a hand towards his groin and darted a careful hand over the last thing Lister would have wanted him to get his grubby hands on, ever. Lister bit his tongue to keep from yelling - he couldn't reveal himself now, could he?

"Ohsmeg."

Rimmer's voice, sounding flat and off through Lister's mouth, but also desperate and needing. With what was almost a sob, Rimmer grabbed what was now a growing erection, wrapping a hand around it eagerly, nearly doubling over, his face - Lister's face, Lister thought, his mind spinning - contorted in emotion.

"Yes... Space, yes..."

The hand moved faster, and it was odd; seeing his own body respond like that, Lister felt himself responding in return. There was a tightening in Rimmer's groin, and suddenly Lister’s trousers were too tight - he fought to hold on to some semblance of control.

With a yelp, Rimmer let go of the fixture, stumbling backwards against the wall, clearly off-balance. Too late, Lister realized where he was headed; before he could retract, Rimmer was leaning up against him, obscuring his view. From this vantage point, however, the sounds he made were even more audible, and Lister didn't need a visual to know what his own body looked like, aroused. For one thing, there had been that mirror above Helene Houston's bed (that one had better not have had a memory function). His hand was still pressed against Rimmer's stomach, and, not thinking, he moved it lower, lost in the sounds and the feel of everything around him, but this body clearly didn't work like his own, and before he'd even gotten his hands inside his trousers, a wave of pleasure hit him, surging from his brain down to his groin, and he fell away, through the wall, through the wall behind it again, and into the quarters beyond.

Presently, the door opened, and a salmon pink-tuxedoed whirlwind entered, spun around on his its Cuban heels, and gave Lister a quizzical look. “Hey, it’s Captain Charisma! What are you doing in here? I was looking for someone to play scrabble with, but I’m not that desperate!”

Sighing, Lister pulled his jacket closer, and wondered how you changed your underwear when you were made out of light.

Comments

[sunny-bexster.livejournal.com]

The killer ending line just sealed the perfect deal for me. This, and by God don't take this the wrong way, is so fantastically sordid. It's dirty but so damned nice! Just the thought, the confusion, the disgust but the low-level sexual satisfaction both of them must have got...

Yay! ^ ^ Am very very happy!

[kahvi.livejournal.com]

I was going to send you phone!porn as an apology for the fact that your fic was late, but the I realized that the plot I was trying to write in the space of a text message would work better as a full story.

I'm really glad you liked it. Dirty and nice sounds like my kind of thing! :D