Rarepair Drabble Tree

[laurenthemself]

If you haven't done the drabble tree thing before, someone posts a drabble (a 100-word ficlet) and then in comments people posts new drabbles, using a line from the previous drabble in their drabble.

By request, here is the base of a rarepair drabble tree -- so for this drabble tree, make your pairing something other than Lister/Rimmer.

---

There was nothing like the chance to finally be alone. Starbug's cockpit was cramped but for the time being they didn't need him. Rimmer stretched out on the bunk, one command vanishing his clothes, another command calling in his favourite aid to self-gratification. The others were busy; he could really enjoy himself this time.

He was almost at the pinnacle of pleasure when Lister unexpectedly walked in. The Scouser's face was undeniably unimpressed as he took in all the details of the passionate scene.

'Can't you at least shut the door, man? That’s disgustin'.'

'Mr Flibble's very unfulfilled,' Rimmer grumped.

Comments

His mind replayed, not for the first time, the scene he’d walked in on years ago.

[laurenthemself]

His mind replayed, not for the first time, the scene he'd walked in on years ago. Monkey-boy sprawled on the bunk, lazily stroking himself; goalpost-head lounging against the wall, pretending to be casual, watching intently. He'd caught them a dozen times since then in their strange silent tableau, and each time said nothing.

All he could think about now was how that cock would fill the strange unfamiliar emptiness he felt. And it would have to be more fun for monkey-boy than just playing with himself, even with an audience.

The Cat showered and dressed carefully, and then went courting.

The Cat showered and dressed carefully, and then went courting.

[kahvi.livejournal.com]

This great big buying-stuff place had everything. There were racks of clothes, a haberdashery, and some weird place where you could lift things or use stationary bicycles. In short, everything he needed.

The Cat showered and dressed carefully, and then went courting.

He was taking some flowers from outside a shop, when gerbil face caught his eye. He nodded to the poster underneath Cat's arm, shaking his head. The words 'Back To Earth' were just about visible, along with a face like Cat's own.

"But I'm the man of his dreams!"

"No," curry breath insisted, snatching the flowers. "Just no."

"Just no."

[hazeltea.livejournal.com]

"No." Spanners spat, shoving the drunken man from his chest. "Just no." There were limits, he insisted, to what he would do to get his way, but more importantly, there was a limit to the number of times he'd do them. What had begun as a bargaining chip in his underhanded schemes to keep his best friend from committing suicide had become a regular affair, consummated each Friday, after the routine briefing.

Bongo stumbled over his tool kit and landed against his chest, his briefcase clattering from his grasp to the floor. Spanners glanced ruefully at the blueprints and made up his mind.The other regarded him with a shy, goofy grin, and Spanners sunk to his knees.

There were limits, he insisted, to what he would do to get his way, but more importantly (...)

[kahvi.livejournal.com]

Their 'meetings' always ended the same way; with Rimmer backing into a corner, waving his hands defensively, much as he was doing now. What an utterly, utterly revolting thing to suggest, he spluttered. There were limits, he insisted, to what he would do to get his way, but more importantly, there was a limit to the number of times he'd do them. This Rimmer said and did.

As for what Rimmer thought...

His eyes were wide, his lips were moist from licking, his pupils were dilated, and his body shook in anticipation.

Grinning, Ackerman began to unbuckle his belt.

‘But I’m the man of his dreams!’

[laurenthemself]

‘But I’m the man of his dreams!’

‘You are a drunk, smelly, drunk, loud, drunk Danish moron, and you are blocking my doorway. Get out.’ Rimmer attempted to slide the door closed manually, but Petersen was an immovable object.

‘Lemme in!’

‘He’s not even here. He’s off with Kochanski.’

At this Petersen let out a long, lager-sodden wail, and attempted to collapse into Rimmer’s arms, except that Rimmer sidestepped and the Dane hit the deck instead.

‘I love him... I thought he loved me... didn’t he ever show you his tattoo? We got them to match...’

Rimmer shuddered. ‘Unfortunately, yes.’