Fic: Chilli Ice Cubes
Feb. 22nd, 2010 10:34 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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reddwarfslashTitle: Chilli Ice Cubes
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Baby, this aint mine.
Notes: This idea came to me a few weeks ago whilst I was cooking with actual chilli ice cubes. With some prodding, I sat down and let all the evil in me come out. It’s naughty, but I love it. Enjoy
The phrase ‘ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer’ was conjured up especially for scenarios like the one that had just occurred.
Rimmer had asked Lister “What are you doing?” and Lister had responded, a tad predictably “Chopping chillies” – and he was. It was perfectly obvious to the hologram as it was to anyone with a set of vaguely functioning eyes...and even, you could still have managed with only one.
Yet still, Rimmer remained puzzled by the human’s behaviour. It was the ice cube tray that confused him. He watched closely as Lister mutilated the slim, red chillies into uneven lumps of crimson, before scooping them up and dumping them, with careful carelessness, into the empty ice cube tray.
“I’ll ask you again and perhaps this time, Lister, you may so kind as to give me an actual explanation, rather than stating the sodding obvious...” He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow towards the ceiling. Noting the lack of immediate reaction, he raised the other one soon after.
“C’mon Rimmer, it’s smegging simple” replied Lister, picking up the kitchen knife and getting to work on another couple of unsuspecting chillies “I’m making chilli ice cubes”
“Lister, that’s hardly ‘smegging simple’ – ‘smegging insane’ yes, but hardly simple.” He sniffed, purposely “Do I dare ask why on Io you’re making...chilli ice cubes?”
The Scouser shrugged “I had the idea in bed last night. I mean, sometimes lager just need a bit of a pep, y’know?”
“No. Lager needs to be transformed into a drink that considerably less low-brow and foul. It doesn’t need to be ‘pepped up’, it needs to struck from the Universe as quickly as possible.”
Lister ignored him, as he chucked more chunks of chill into the ice cube tray. He sloshed a good load of water into the tray, creating a puddle across the work tops, a few lumps of red floating along like the flotsam of some tragic vegetable disaster. He carried the tray over to the freezer, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in a bid to help him balance, and slid it in, nestled safely between a bag of frozen rhubarb and a box of reconstituted lamb cutlets. He closed the door shut with a victorious grin, given he’d really only combined vegetable matter and water together.
Rimmer watched the little goit leave before glaring at the freezer and a plan was formed.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lister was draped across his bunk, a dog-eared magazine in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other. The meticulous ‘click click’ of Rimmer boots down the corridor brought his gaze towards the door, awaiting his bunkmates arrival.
The hologram arrived, a controlled injection of order and discipline into Lister’s haphazard existence. His long arms were folded behind his back, and once again his eyebrows were clinging to his hairline. Lister could tell automatically he was up to something.
“I thought I’d find you here” said Rimmer, his tone was cold and clipped. He set something down on the table before coughing lightly to check he had Lister’s full attention.
Lister stuck the ciggie between his lips and lurched off his bunk to take a look at the table. Frowning, he glanced at Rimmer, who smirked.
The ice cube tray of chillis.
“Take your shirt off.” said Rimmer, his tone sliding towards something altogether quite playful.
“What?!” yelped Lister, nearly swallowing his cigarette in shock.
“Take your shirt off, please” repeated Rimmer, vaguely remembering an old Earth anecdote about flies and honey.
The cigarette dropped to the floor as Lister stood, slack jawed with bewilderment. His fingers, of their own accord, slowly fumbled with his shirt buttons as Rimmer looked on approvingly. There was something about this entire situation that intimidated Lister, but at the same time it intrigued the hell out of him.
With Lister’s shirt at his feet, Rimmer eased a chilli ice cube about the tray with his slim fingers, and stepped towards his bunkmate.
Carefully holding the slippery lump of frozen chilli, Rimmer slid the cube across Lister’s lips and smiled as he recoiled from the sting and the tingle.
“I thought you liked things hot and spicy?”
“It’s cold” said Lister, gently touching his lips but all the while keeping his eyes locked on Rimmer.
“Don’t be such a baby” said Rimmer lightly, following Lister and standing close to him. He brought his hand up to Lister’s chest and pressed it flat against the skin, the ice cube caught between the hologram and human. Lister shivered under Rimmer’s touch – a mixture of cold and arousal, but he stayed still, his skin burning and aching from the chilli and the chill.
The crimson cube glided across the skin of Lister’s chest, leaving a trail of tingly teardrops in its wake. The liquid clung to his body, setting fire to his senses and bringing a flush to his face. Lister squirmed beneath Rimmer’s fingertips, his hips brushing against Rimmer’s velvet clad legs. He took a step backwards, half-falling onto the table, his eye imploring Rimmer to follow.
Lying pinned to the table, Lister was as helpless as he was horny. His torso was bare and vulnerable. It was crying out to Rimmer to be caressed, to be massaged with an infuriating mix of fire and ice. Steadying himself against the back of a chair, Rimmer bent over Lister’s stricken form and let the ice cube drop onto his chest. He allowed it to sit there for a few seconds, sizzling against the skin, bringing goose bumps to the surface. He used his long fingers to lazily push the ice back and forth across the chest, circling the nipples with agonising accuracy.
The heat from Lister’s body and the persistent warmth of Rimmer’s hologramatic fingers made the ice cube shrink, leaving flecks of red vegetable flesh across Lister’s skin. Rimmer brushed these off and felt a rush of desire as Lister hissed at the sensation. The hologram helped himself to a fresh ice cube and wasted no time in getting straight back into the action.
He rested the ice cube in the nape of Lister’s neck, freezing cold water dribbling down the shoulders, before gently dragging it down the length of his chest and over the gentle curve of his stomach. The human wriggled and twitched but tried to stay as still as he dared. Rimmer waited until he was immobile, before he drew a smile across Lister’s stomach with the cube, a watery grin that shone against the skin. Tracing the faded, slightly wiggly line of Lister’s caesarean scar, Rimmer felt the human give way to another fit of squirming and watched as he writhed on the tabletop, at the mercy of the sensation. With a superior smile, the hologram nudged the ice cube so it rested on top of Lister’s belly button and left it there.
Popping two more ice cubes out of the tray, Rimmer balanced them on top of Lister’s nipples, rubbing them in little circles across the tender surface. By now, Lister was half-fraught with lust, biting his lip to stop himself crying out in agony and ecstasy. Rimmer trailed his hands down Lister’s stomach and slid his fingers around the button of those infamous leather pants. With a flick of his fingertips, Rimmer had the flies undone and his hand sliding into Lister’s boxers without a trace of hesitation.
Concealed beneath his fingers was a third ice cube, which he blindly pressed against the top of Lister’s crotch, sliding it slowly but surely downwards. A scream tore the atmosphere apart at the seams, Rimmer jumped back, arms whirling as he stumbled away from Lister, who was busy scurrying to the bathroom.
The sound of the shower, mingled with Lister’s breathless stream of profanities rendered the scenario sexually dead. Cautiously, Rimmer poked his head around the bathroom door - Lister was pressed against the wall of the shower, soaked from head to toe, panting and groaning. His leather pants were pooled around his ankles and his hands were dug deep into his boxers, nursing his burnt manhood with tender care.
He glanced up and fixed Rimmer with a look that was halfway aggravated, but mostly incredulous. “Don’t you know to never handle junk when you’ve got chilli on your hands?!” he exclaimed, tugging the shower head down from its wall holder and liberally soaking his genitals.
Rimmer’s mouth opened but he had nothing to say. He felt disorientated and quite sheepish. He swallowed thickly, “Why didn’t you stop me?” he asked in a small voice
“I had no idea what you were doin’, I couldn’t see – by the time I knew it, it was too smegging late” he winced again and held the shower head impossibly close to his crotch, water splashing across his thighs and stomach in a way that Rimmer couldn’t help but find captivating.
“I’m sorry” he said, and for once he meant it. Only he, Arnold Rimmer, could injury someone in pursuit of sexual gratification. Typical.
Switching off the shower, Lister gingerly stepped out into the cold air, water dripping from his boxers and dreadlocks onto the floor. He wrung both out as best as he could and sighed. “It’s okay, man. Everything feels...well, smegging painful, but I’ve had worse. Trust me. No lasting harm done.”
“I’ve ruined the mood a little, haven’t I?” said Rimmer, holding back a weary sigh as he stepped back into the bunkroom.
“Well generally, once you’ve injured your partners bits out of commission for while, it’s time to call it a day and head to bed I guess” Lister grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, wincing at the movements. “I think...I might need to go and see Kryten. This might need some ice on it.”
Rimmer smirked. He couldn’t help it, he just smirked and inclined his head towards the table. Lister followed his gaze.
The ice cube tray.
“Oh smeg off,” he said, a laugh not far from his lips, as he walked out of the bunkroom.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Baby, this aint mine.
Notes: This idea came to me a few weeks ago whilst I was cooking with actual chilli ice cubes. With some prodding, I sat down and let all the evil in me come out. It’s naughty, but I love it. Enjoy
The phrase ‘ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer’ was conjured up especially for scenarios like the one that had just occurred.
Rimmer had asked Lister “What are you doing?” and Lister had responded, a tad predictably “Chopping chillies” – and he was. It was perfectly obvious to the hologram as it was to anyone with a set of vaguely functioning eyes...and even, you could still have managed with only one.
Yet still, Rimmer remained puzzled by the human’s behaviour. It was the ice cube tray that confused him. He watched closely as Lister mutilated the slim, red chillies into uneven lumps of crimson, before scooping them up and dumping them, with careful carelessness, into the empty ice cube tray.
“I’ll ask you again and perhaps this time, Lister, you may so kind as to give me an actual explanation, rather than stating the sodding obvious...” He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow towards the ceiling. Noting the lack of immediate reaction, he raised the other one soon after.
“C’mon Rimmer, it’s smegging simple” replied Lister, picking up the kitchen knife and getting to work on another couple of unsuspecting chillies “I’m making chilli ice cubes”
“Lister, that’s hardly ‘smegging simple’ – ‘smegging insane’ yes, but hardly simple.” He sniffed, purposely “Do I dare ask why on Io you’re making...chilli ice cubes?”
The Scouser shrugged “I had the idea in bed last night. I mean, sometimes lager just need a bit of a pep, y’know?”
“No. Lager needs to be transformed into a drink that considerably less low-brow and foul. It doesn’t need to be ‘pepped up’, it needs to struck from the Universe as quickly as possible.”
Lister ignored him, as he chucked more chunks of chill into the ice cube tray. He sloshed a good load of water into the tray, creating a puddle across the work tops, a few lumps of red floating along like the flotsam of some tragic vegetable disaster. He carried the tray over to the freezer, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in a bid to help him balance, and slid it in, nestled safely between a bag of frozen rhubarb and a box of reconstituted lamb cutlets. He closed the door shut with a victorious grin, given he’d really only combined vegetable matter and water together.
Rimmer watched the little goit leave before glaring at the freezer and a plan was formed.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lister was draped across his bunk, a dog-eared magazine in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other. The meticulous ‘click click’ of Rimmer boots down the corridor brought his gaze towards the door, awaiting his bunkmates arrival.
The hologram arrived, a controlled injection of order and discipline into Lister’s haphazard existence. His long arms were folded behind his back, and once again his eyebrows were clinging to his hairline. Lister could tell automatically he was up to something.
“I thought I’d find you here” said Rimmer, his tone was cold and clipped. He set something down on the table before coughing lightly to check he had Lister’s full attention.
Lister stuck the ciggie between his lips and lurched off his bunk to take a look at the table. Frowning, he glanced at Rimmer, who smirked.
The ice cube tray of chillis.
“Take your shirt off.” said Rimmer, his tone sliding towards something altogether quite playful.
“What?!” yelped Lister, nearly swallowing his cigarette in shock.
“Take your shirt off, please” repeated Rimmer, vaguely remembering an old Earth anecdote about flies and honey.
The cigarette dropped to the floor as Lister stood, slack jawed with bewilderment. His fingers, of their own accord, slowly fumbled with his shirt buttons as Rimmer looked on approvingly. There was something about this entire situation that intimidated Lister, but at the same time it intrigued the hell out of him.
With Lister’s shirt at his feet, Rimmer eased a chilli ice cube about the tray with his slim fingers, and stepped towards his bunkmate.
Carefully holding the slippery lump of frozen chilli, Rimmer slid the cube across Lister’s lips and smiled as he recoiled from the sting and the tingle.
“I thought you liked things hot and spicy?”
“It’s cold” said Lister, gently touching his lips but all the while keeping his eyes locked on Rimmer.
“Don’t be such a baby” said Rimmer lightly, following Lister and standing close to him. He brought his hand up to Lister’s chest and pressed it flat against the skin, the ice cube caught between the hologram and human. Lister shivered under Rimmer’s touch – a mixture of cold and arousal, but he stayed still, his skin burning and aching from the chilli and the chill.
The crimson cube glided across the skin of Lister’s chest, leaving a trail of tingly teardrops in its wake. The liquid clung to his body, setting fire to his senses and bringing a flush to his face. Lister squirmed beneath Rimmer’s fingertips, his hips brushing against Rimmer’s velvet clad legs. He took a step backwards, half-falling onto the table, his eye imploring Rimmer to follow.
Lying pinned to the table, Lister was as helpless as he was horny. His torso was bare and vulnerable. It was crying out to Rimmer to be caressed, to be massaged with an infuriating mix of fire and ice. Steadying himself against the back of a chair, Rimmer bent over Lister’s stricken form and let the ice cube drop onto his chest. He allowed it to sit there for a few seconds, sizzling against the skin, bringing goose bumps to the surface. He used his long fingers to lazily push the ice back and forth across the chest, circling the nipples with agonising accuracy.
The heat from Lister’s body and the persistent warmth of Rimmer’s hologramatic fingers made the ice cube shrink, leaving flecks of red vegetable flesh across Lister’s skin. Rimmer brushed these off and felt a rush of desire as Lister hissed at the sensation. The hologram helped himself to a fresh ice cube and wasted no time in getting straight back into the action.
He rested the ice cube in the nape of Lister’s neck, freezing cold water dribbling down the shoulders, before gently dragging it down the length of his chest and over the gentle curve of his stomach. The human wriggled and twitched but tried to stay as still as he dared. Rimmer waited until he was immobile, before he drew a smile across Lister’s stomach with the cube, a watery grin that shone against the skin. Tracing the faded, slightly wiggly line of Lister’s caesarean scar, Rimmer felt the human give way to another fit of squirming and watched as he writhed on the tabletop, at the mercy of the sensation. With a superior smile, the hologram nudged the ice cube so it rested on top of Lister’s belly button and left it there.
Popping two more ice cubes out of the tray, Rimmer balanced them on top of Lister’s nipples, rubbing them in little circles across the tender surface. By now, Lister was half-fraught with lust, biting his lip to stop himself crying out in agony and ecstasy. Rimmer trailed his hands down Lister’s stomach and slid his fingers around the button of those infamous leather pants. With a flick of his fingertips, Rimmer had the flies undone and his hand sliding into Lister’s boxers without a trace of hesitation.
Concealed beneath his fingers was a third ice cube, which he blindly pressed against the top of Lister’s crotch, sliding it slowly but surely downwards. A scream tore the atmosphere apart at the seams, Rimmer jumped back, arms whirling as he stumbled away from Lister, who was busy scurrying to the bathroom.
The sound of the shower, mingled with Lister’s breathless stream of profanities rendered the scenario sexually dead. Cautiously, Rimmer poked his head around the bathroom door - Lister was pressed against the wall of the shower, soaked from head to toe, panting and groaning. His leather pants were pooled around his ankles and his hands were dug deep into his boxers, nursing his burnt manhood with tender care.
He glanced up and fixed Rimmer with a look that was halfway aggravated, but mostly incredulous. “Don’t you know to never handle junk when you’ve got chilli on your hands?!” he exclaimed, tugging the shower head down from its wall holder and liberally soaking his genitals.
Rimmer’s mouth opened but he had nothing to say. He felt disorientated and quite sheepish. He swallowed thickly, “Why didn’t you stop me?” he asked in a small voice
“I had no idea what you were doin’, I couldn’t see – by the time I knew it, it was too smegging late” he winced again and held the shower head impossibly close to his crotch, water splashing across his thighs and stomach in a way that Rimmer couldn’t help but find captivating.
“I’m sorry” he said, and for once he meant it. Only he, Arnold Rimmer, could injury someone in pursuit of sexual gratification. Typical.
Switching off the shower, Lister gingerly stepped out into the cold air, water dripping from his boxers and dreadlocks onto the floor. He wrung both out as best as he could and sighed. “It’s okay, man. Everything feels...well, smegging painful, but I’ve had worse. Trust me. No lasting harm done.”
“I’ve ruined the mood a little, haven’t I?” said Rimmer, holding back a weary sigh as he stepped back into the bunkroom.
“Well generally, once you’ve injured your partners bits out of commission for while, it’s time to call it a day and head to bed I guess” Lister grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, wincing at the movements. “I think...I might need to go and see Kryten. This might need some ice on it.”
Rimmer smirked. He couldn’t help it, he just smirked and inclined his head towards the table. Lister followed his gaze.
The ice cube tray.
“Oh smeg off,” he said, a laugh not far from his lips, as he walked out of the bunkroom.
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no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 10:44 pm (UTC)I will repeat, there's something wrong with me.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 10:52 pm (UTC)>Only he, Arnold Rimmer, could injury someone in pursuit of sexual gratification. Typical.
Oh, Rimmsy...he just got a bit too excited and got carried away ;)
This made me squee several times, and I think you know when those were!
no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 08:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 10:41 am (UTC)Thanks for writing this, it was hot and reminds me of that massage oil that heats up. I kept thinking "I bet that would be good for sore muscles". Although chilli, for me, tends to itch when it gets on the skin...
In any case, it was hot (in several ways) and lots of fun!
no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 07:31 pm (UTC)I know someone who burned himself, in that area, with fresh chillies (accidentally, of course) and for his birthday, received a tube of chilli jelly sweets (similar to the cherry ones). They are NOT to be underestimated.
I can also imagine Lister sucking on a Tabasco and vindaloo sauce ice pole or something...(no innuendo intended!)