Fic: Taking Turns, part 1 of 3
Jan. 29th, 2005 11:39 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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reddwarfslashTitle: Taking Turns
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: The new Ace Rimmer finds a surprise waiting for him in one universe he drops into...
Ace Rimmer, Space Adventurer, climbed out of his cockpit and dropped nonchalantly to the floor.
Ouch. That was the plan, anyway. It always worked when nobody was watching, but screw up just the tiniest bit, wince when you twisted your ankle, and you were guaranteed an audience.
"Ace! Good to see you again, man."
Lister. As usual. He'd almost become used to being greeted with a friendly smile now, and sometimes a slap on the back. After the first oh, three or four hundred times he'd stopped wondering when Lister would pull the rug out from under him, take his hand back just as he was about to shake it, or leave him standing outside the Pink Pussycat surrounded by a jeering crowd of moustachioed leather boys.
Lister wiped his hands on a rag and loped towards him with a stupid grin on his face. Ah, this was one of the slap on the back universes then. Typically those involved large quantities of beer and much talk about girls.
But instead Lister pulled him into a warm, if smelly, embrace and unmistakably licked his neck. A burly man in a boilersuit barely gave them a glance as he wandered past. "Get your boyfriend out of here, Spanners. We're still finding damp patches in the locker room from his last visit."
Rimmer could feel his mouth drop open, but every other part seemed to have frozen. All right, so-oo maybe there wouldn't be any talk about girls this time. But he could certainly do with a drink.
---
"What's up, man, you're as tense as a virgin in a brothel. Just relax." Lister took a gulp of his beer and rubbed his hand affectionately over Rimmer's knee.
"Tense? Me? Whatever gives you that idea?" Rimmer's beer shook violently and spilt all over his hand.
Lister took his drink and set it down on the table. "Come on, what's wrong? You're acting really weird."
Rimmer's jaw dropped. "I'm acting weird? The man with his hand on my knee is calling me strange?"
Lister smirked. "Aw, come on, Rimmsy, we both know this hand's been in much stranger places than your knee." He leaned in closer, and Rimmer could feel his hand running up his thigh towards his--
He clapped a hand firmly over Lister's.
"Spoilsport."
Rimmer tried desperately to compose himself. "Look, I don't know what's given you the idea, the idea that--" he shivered as Lister's hand wriggled free and headed straight for his neatly buttoned fly. Rimmer edged forward on his seat, trying to work out what anyone else could see under the table.
"God, it feels more like years than months since I did this." Lister's eyes were closed, his hand delving into places man had never been before, and the look on his face was... pleasure? "Have you missed me, too?"
"Miss you? I saw you yesterday, Lister." Although he had to admit it hadn't been quite like this. That hand was really quite - ahhh - enjoyable.
Lister pulled his hand back, and Rimmer had to restrain himself from grabbing it and putting it back again. "You cheated on me with meself? Is that what you're saying?"
What? "No! We went for a drink, and talked about women. Well, you did."
Lister's face relaxed. "Right. I forgot not all the me's out there are gay." He grinned. "They don't know what they're missing." He looked around, then leaned in and whispered, "Tiger."
Tiger, eh? Rimmer straightened his shoulders and reclaimed his drink. Maybe if he looked more relaxed, Lister would put his hand back.
"I know what you're doing." Lister gave him a sideways look. "You sly old dog."
"That's me, Listy." Rimmer took a sip of his beer. Strong stuff. He stared hard at Lister's hand. Move, damn you!
"It's one of your games, isn't it? It's not gonna work you know, I remember last time it was my turn to top - you pretended we'd never even met before!" And at last the hand started moving again.
"Yeah. I was... teasing." Rimmer groaned and settled his legs further apart as Lister's fingers stroked against his hardening erection, caressing through the thin cotton of his underwear. He had no idea what Lister was on about, but goddamnit if he didn't care right now. "God, that's good."
"Yeah? Well drink up, and we'll see how it feels with my mouth on it." And Lister downed his beer in one.
Rimmer spluttered into his beer. Did Lister mean that? He stared into those brown eyes, but all he could see there was lust. He was really going to... oh god. It was wrong, it was… Lister hated him! He hated Lister, everyone knew that, it was like cats and dogs. Arnold Rimmer and Dave Lister were destined to never get along.
Except… except he wasn't really Arnold Rimmer any more, was he? He was Ace, and Ace could handle anything. He certainly wouldn't turn down a blowjob. Rimmer had always had his suspicions that Ace had been a bit light-footed, so it was kind of nice to be vindicated. He stood, and knocked back the rest of his beer with a flick of his fringe.
And anyway, Lister sucking him off? A grin crept over his face. Oh yes.
He'd have blackmail material for eternity.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: The new Ace Rimmer finds a surprise waiting for him in one universe he drops into...
Ace Rimmer, Space Adventurer, climbed out of his cockpit and dropped nonchalantly to the floor.
Ouch. That was the plan, anyway. It always worked when nobody was watching, but screw up just the tiniest bit, wince when you twisted your ankle, and you were guaranteed an audience.
"Ace! Good to see you again, man."
Lister. As usual. He'd almost become used to being greeted with a friendly smile now, and sometimes a slap on the back. After the first oh, three or four hundred times he'd stopped wondering when Lister would pull the rug out from under him, take his hand back just as he was about to shake it, or leave him standing outside the Pink Pussycat surrounded by a jeering crowd of moustachioed leather boys.
Lister wiped his hands on a rag and loped towards him with a stupid grin on his face. Ah, this was one of the slap on the back universes then. Typically those involved large quantities of beer and much talk about girls.
But instead Lister pulled him into a warm, if smelly, embrace and unmistakably licked his neck. A burly man in a boilersuit barely gave them a glance as he wandered past. "Get your boyfriend out of here, Spanners. We're still finding damp patches in the locker room from his last visit."
Rimmer could feel his mouth drop open, but every other part seemed to have frozen. All right, so-oo maybe there wouldn't be any talk about girls this time. But he could certainly do with a drink.
---
"What's up, man, you're as tense as a virgin in a brothel. Just relax." Lister took a gulp of his beer and rubbed his hand affectionately over Rimmer's knee.
"Tense? Me? Whatever gives you that idea?" Rimmer's beer shook violently and spilt all over his hand.
Lister took his drink and set it down on the table. "Come on, what's wrong? You're acting really weird."
Rimmer's jaw dropped. "I'm acting weird? The man with his hand on my knee is calling me strange?"
Lister smirked. "Aw, come on, Rimmsy, we both know this hand's been in much stranger places than your knee." He leaned in closer, and Rimmer could feel his hand running up his thigh towards his--
He clapped a hand firmly over Lister's.
"Spoilsport."
Rimmer tried desperately to compose himself. "Look, I don't know what's given you the idea, the idea that--" he shivered as Lister's hand wriggled free and headed straight for his neatly buttoned fly. Rimmer edged forward on his seat, trying to work out what anyone else could see under the table.
"God, it feels more like years than months since I did this." Lister's eyes were closed, his hand delving into places man had never been before, and the look on his face was... pleasure? "Have you missed me, too?"
"Miss you? I saw you yesterday, Lister." Although he had to admit it hadn't been quite like this. That hand was really quite - ahhh - enjoyable.
Lister pulled his hand back, and Rimmer had to restrain himself from grabbing it and putting it back again. "You cheated on me with meself? Is that what you're saying?"
What? "No! We went for a drink, and talked about women. Well, you did."
Lister's face relaxed. "Right. I forgot not all the me's out there are gay." He grinned. "They don't know what they're missing." He looked around, then leaned in and whispered, "Tiger."
Tiger, eh? Rimmer straightened his shoulders and reclaimed his drink. Maybe if he looked more relaxed, Lister would put his hand back.
"I know what you're doing." Lister gave him a sideways look. "You sly old dog."
"That's me, Listy." Rimmer took a sip of his beer. Strong stuff. He stared hard at Lister's hand. Move, damn you!
"It's one of your games, isn't it? It's not gonna work you know, I remember last time it was my turn to top - you pretended we'd never even met before!" And at last the hand started moving again.
"Yeah. I was... teasing." Rimmer groaned and settled his legs further apart as Lister's fingers stroked against his hardening erection, caressing through the thin cotton of his underwear. He had no idea what Lister was on about, but goddamnit if he didn't care right now. "God, that's good."
"Yeah? Well drink up, and we'll see how it feels with my mouth on it." And Lister downed his beer in one.
Rimmer spluttered into his beer. Did Lister mean that? He stared into those brown eyes, but all he could see there was lust. He was really going to... oh god. It was wrong, it was… Lister hated him! He hated Lister, everyone knew that, it was like cats and dogs. Arnold Rimmer and Dave Lister were destined to never get along.
Except… except he wasn't really Arnold Rimmer any more, was he? He was Ace, and Ace could handle anything. He certainly wouldn't turn down a blowjob. Rimmer had always had his suspicions that Ace had been a bit light-footed, so it was kind of nice to be vindicated. He stood, and knocked back the rest of his beer with a flick of his fringe.
And anyway, Lister sucking him off? A grin crept over his face. Oh yes.
He'd have blackmail material for eternity.
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