Smut ahoy

[roadstergal.livejournal.com]

Smutlet ficlet. Stress, sequel to Fear. Spoilers for VI, and Rimmerworld in particular (I have been forgetting to put up spoiler warnings - whups).
Ramblings:
I thought one of the charming things about the Infamous Blue Kiss is how nervous Rimmer looked - the "Is this a good kiss or not? I don't do this much!" thang.
Pouring cold oil on a bare back is a bad massage technique. Pour it into your hand and warm it up first, kids.

He twiddled his worry balls in his fingers. They just did not grind together satisfyingly anymore.

Comments

[kahvi.livejournal.com]

Yeah! I always make a little happy squeal when I see you've written new fic. Comments! I bring comments:

He had been without any kind of food or drink for five hundred years (his myriad clones stopped feeding him in the hopes he would die; when he didn't, they just ignored him).

OK, that's kind of eerie. I got a plot idea involving this just this morning. Yours is better though, but I might still use mine.

I read about it in a book."

He read a book? Heheh...

"If you wus any stiffer, mate, you'd be dead."

*snigger* Also, can you imagine how stiff Rimmer must be? Well, obviously you can, because you've written it wonderfully, but yes - no wonder he lets his guard down afterwards.

*happy toughts of Rimmer's bare back* *siiiigh*

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Robinson?" he mumbled.

This works really well. I can hear him saying this.

Right, so; I'm all swoony reading all that yummy descriptiveness of hawt sexing, and all of the sudden you pull this:

a small cold pit of worry and fear still sat in the base of Rimmer's stomach - somewhere around the colon or appendix, he judged,

I almost fell of the couch laughing! Brilliant! Perfect! I felt like I truly was inside Rimmer's head; a rather disturbing experience, I might add...

MORE! *claps hands and stops feet in manner of theater audience demanding encore*