Things Have Got Harder
A Rimmer/Lister FanFiction
Soft light – hard light
:-:
"Death isn't the handicap it used to be"
And to begin with Rimmer thought that was a lot of old smeg, but as time passed he found there were in fact advantages to being a hologram. The comparison to being a ghost was quite accurate: for starters they had being dead in common, which was quite a major factor when you thought about it.
Oh, and they could both walk through walls, which proved very handy as Rimmer could surprise Lister at any moment and point out just in how many ways the junior technician was breaking Space Corp. Directives. Or just pissing Rimmer off by biting his toenails, spilling curry sauce in his bunk, or generally breathing.
And sure, he couldn't touch anything, but as time passed by this became more and more of a good thing instead of the downright inconvenience it once was.
You see, Rimmer had a problem. Okay, Arnold J. Rimmer had a lot of problems, but this one in particular was haunting – for use of a bad pun – his every waking, and dreaming, moment.
And the officer potential in him could look at it logically; he was three million years away from the human race and the only individual left to represent it was snoring on the bunk above him every night.
The rest of him just plain wanted Dave-Smegging-Lister. And by 'wanted' he didn't necessarily mean to burn at a stake or push out of an airlock – although he had frequently thought about both these options. Essentially though, Rimmer wanted Lister in a way that would leave them hot and sweaty, sharing a bunk at three am. Or a table. Or the floor. His imagination tended to run away with him at this point.
Which brings us back to just why being a soft-light hologram had its advantages. Because if Rimmer couldn't smack Lister round the head when he was being a gimboid (which was often), then he also couldn't shove Lister up against a wall and snog him senseless when he was being alluring (which was also alarmingly often).
Rimmer was safe in his little bubble of death; safe from ridicule and safe from heartbreak. He physically couldn't do anything about the way he felt and therefore couldn't be turned down by the object of his affection.
And just when he had got used to the whole "it doesn't matter if I feel this way 'cause it isn't like I can do a smegging thing about it" they had met Legion and suddenly Rimmer had a hard-light body. And, without thinking, the first thing he had done was reach out and touch Lister. And then, oh smeg. Lister had reached over and touched him back.
And in one swift movement his resolve had crumbled along with his knees.
Sometime later, having eaten for the first time in three million years, Rimmer found 'his' room and collapsed on the bed, indigestion kicking in and reminding him of yet something else that made him feel more human.
Mostly though, he was just embarrassed. To faint like that? He was supposed to be the superior crew member for smeg's sake and he had just felt his legs go to jelly like a kid on their first day of high school. But as Rimmer remembered, his first day of high school had also included pissing himself, which at least was something to be grateful for not happening this time.
It had just been so overwhelming – to be able to touch and feel. And god – to taste. He thought he would never get enough of it, and then he realised that there had been an extremely good – nay essential – reason for remaining in soft-light.
Because what he really wanted to touch and feel and taste made him plain space-crazy. Or maybe a more flamboyant kind of crazy? And just when he was contemplating all this, there was a knock at the door and in stepped temptation himself.
"How ya doing Rimmer? Felt up everythin' in the room yet?"
"Not yet," Rimmer answered honestly, seeing as Lister was now in said room and that was some feeling up he definitely hadn't been doing. Not in reality anyway. Trying to put this thought from his mind, he stretched out on the bed and watched as Lister settled into a chair and picked up a book entitled 'Warfare: How Not To Invade Great Britain, By Adolf Hitler'. He put it down again pretty sharpish.
Rimmer concentrated on running his hands along the side of his mattress and scrunching them down into the material.
"What's it like man?"
Rimmer opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again. It was nothing like a psy-moon or an AR game. It was indescribable. He was just wondering how exactly to phrase this – in a witty Rimmer-esc way – when Lister spoke again.
"Can I touch you?"
"What?!" Rimmer sat up so fast he went dizzy; another downside of being hard-light.
"Can I touch you?" Lister repeated with more confidence. Rimmer's natural defence mechanisms kicked in.
"I bet you think that's what I've been waiting for, don't you? Now Rimmer's hard-light he'll just be begging for me to run my dirty curry stained hands all over him. I hardly think so Lister." He finished with a scoff; the sarcasm dripping from his mouth keeping his true feelings in check.
"I wasn't asking for you."
Rimmer looked at him quizzically. Lister sighed and proceeded to explain.
"I'm the last human being man, don't you think I miss contact? A touch, a friendly arm around my shoulder? Smeg, I'd settle for you punching me in the gut right now."
Rimmer was shocked at this revelation – it honestly hadn't occurred to him that Lister might miss humans and their physical interactions. But that was Rimmer all over; selfish and self-centred.
As Lister turned to leave, Rimmer reached out and grabbed Lister's partially gloved hand between his fingers. Lister paused and looked back in surprise. Luckily he couldn't see Rimmer's face as his too was focused on the interlocking of their fingers.
The first thing to cross Lister's mind was that Rimmer felt human – the light bee was mimicking everything from the texture of his skin down to the bones hidden beneath it. He pressed down on Rimmer's hand experimentally.
Wanting to feel Lister's palm against his own, Rimmer moved to unbuckle the leather glove Lister was wearing, the caramel hand sitting gently within his white ones.
Suddenly frustrated with the slow speed of events, Lister yanked his hand away – pulling it up to his mouth and ripping the glove free with his teeth before spitting it out on the floor and repeating the action with his other hand. Finally, after far too long for Rimmer, Lister placed his palms down to press against the holograms.
Lister curled his fingers between Rimmer's and ran his thumb along the underside of the other man's wrist, surprised at the shudder it caused to pass through Rimmer's body.
Speaking of Rimmer, he was currently stuck between heaven and hell, a rock and a hard place. And he was definitely aware of the 'hard' place. Now would, in fact, be a good time to go running from the room and into a cold shower before he did something he would later regret. And cringe over. But then Lister had hold of his elbows and was pulling Rimmer clean from the bed and onto his feet; Lister's arms holding him flush against the third technician.
To be honest it was a good thing Lister was holding him up as Rimmer's legs were ready to give way at any moment due to arousal. But, this being quite inappropriate, Rimmer chided himself and tried to pull back, praying to a non-existent entity he didn't believe in that Lister hadn't noticed the affect he was having on Rimmer's trousers.
As it turns out, he had noticed, but wasn't letting on just yet. Slipping his arms into the sleeves of Rimmer's jacket to feel the skin beneath, he wondered how it made him feel; knowing Rimmer was turned on right now. He guessed it made sense – as much as he wanted to believe that it was he, Lister, solely having this effect on his bunkmate, he figured it was just sensation overload. After all, one touch had caused the man to faint; right now his body must be on sensory overdrive.
What worried him, however, was how much he wanted to be the cause of that erection. He wanted to be the thing that made that stuck-up pompous technician horny. Quite a terrifying thought in itself. And whilst making his way through this inner monologue, Lister came to the conclusion there was decidedly too little skin.
"You wanna help me out here man?" He asked, pulling at Rimmer's jacket.
"Oh." Rimmer responded, still decidedly out of it. Yes. Yes, if Lister wanted Rimmer to remove his jacket then that was fine with him. More than fine. He wished he had afforded it more attention however, when in vanishing his hologramatic jacket he also removed his trousers.
"Oh smeg," he cursed, stepping back from Lister, realising too late this just gave the man a better view of his white t-shirt and undershorts. "Smeg," He repeated, trying to call his trousers back into existence but to no avail.
"Keen much?" Lister asked, smirking with a cocked eyebrow.
"Er…" Where had his power of speech gone? Rimmer's eyes widened as Lister tugged at his curry-stained overalls, shoving them to the floor, kicking his boots off his feet, and flinging the whole lot unceremoniously across the room.
His long johns were almost clean, Rimmer realised in shock. Also calling them 'long' johns was a little bit generous as the material didn't even reach down as far as Lister's knees, revealing delicious brown thighs beneath. Rimmer was pointedly not looking at the area just above them.
Lister took a step closer, realising that since removing his clothes, Rimmer had yet to look up and meet his eyes.
"You can touch me you know," he prompted the hologram, almost desperate to feel those pale hands back in his. But Rimmer didn't reach for his hands. Instead he ran a long finger up the inside of one of Lister's thighs, knocking the back of his hand against the other man's groin causing Lister to jolt in shock.
And that was really taking things too far. Rimmer stepped back in horror, tripped over his own feet and fell back onto the bed, catching the back of his shins in the process. He leant down to rub his legs, cursing his hard light, and when he looked back up he got a face full of Lister's underwear. Audibly gulping, Rimmer looked up beyond Lister's chest and into those deep brown eyes.
The third technician bent forward and slipped a hand round the back of Rimmer's neck, using the other one to place Rimmer's fingers back on his thigh. This, seeming more like an invitation, gave Rimmer confidence in exploring the skin before him; bringing his other hand up to experiment with stroking and squeezing the soft flesh between his palms.
Head now tipped back lost in the sensation of touch, Lister began to run his fingers through the back of Rimmer's hair, tugging gently on the curls while lacing his other hand downwards to palm his growing erection through the fabric of his long johns.
Rimmer's hands froze in their position on Lister's thighs. The sight of Lister rubbing himself so blatantly in front of him was nearly enough to male Rimmer come in his pats without even being touched. He wasn't really sure where this was headed, so he thought he had better ask before he lost the ability to speak completely.
"Dave…?"
"Shut up," Lister responded, and to emphasise his point, leant forward and captured Rimmer's mouth beneath his own, effectively cutting off the hologram's ability to communicate – not that his mind was clear enough to have said anything anyway.
The kiss was softer than any Rimmer had ever imagined: in his head their making out had always been more like their bickering; harsh and sudden. But now Lister was crawling into his lap, causing Rimmer to edge backwards further onto the bed as Lister explored Rimmer's mouth with his own, nibbling gently on Rimmer's bottom lip and running his tongue over the seal of the hologram's mouth – almost begging entry.
Rimmer opened up willingly; lost in the taste of Lister's lips on his, the feel of those brown hands in his hair. He realised around this point that his own hands had found Lister's hips and were kneading the skin beneath the man's underwear.
After three million years of little to no contact, the action of Lister sucking on his tongue proved too much for Rimmer and he came, somewhat embarrassingly, in his pants; biting down on Lister's lower lip in the process.
Pulling away, the third technician laughed openly, causing Rimmer's face to cloud over. His heart broke behind his eyes.
"Alright, you've had your joke – you can get off me now." Removing his hands from Lister's hips, somewhere they had most definitely left marks, Rimmer used them to try and push the other man away. But Lister was having none of it, grabbing Rimmer's wrists in his fingers, moving one pale hand down between their bodies to find Lister's erection, and moving the other up to his lips. He sucked Rimmer's fingers into his mouth, licking them filthily as he pressed Rimmer further into him below; a process that pieced Rimmer's heart back together.
The hologram threw his head back murmuring, "Oh god Listy," which was enough to make Lister orgasm into his palm, the material between them wet and warm beneath Rimmer's touch.
Removing Rimmer's fingers from his mouth, Lister instead used his lips to capture Rimmer's in an all-encompassing kiss.
"Smeg, you're amazing man…"
"Really?" Rimmer asked in disbelief, despite the evidence presented before him.
"Smeghead," Lister responded, affectionately, "We should have found you a hard light years ago."
And Rimmer couldn't help but agree.