I haven't bothered titling these chapters for once. Maybe I will later on in the day. But for now it's what you've probably waiting for – smecksing :P

On this note, reviews would be nice. I've had many views of this story so don't all lie and say you're doing NaNoWriMo (which I am too, but lagging miserably).

Also I reference the Floor 13 outfit as being in two parts – shirt and trousers. Upon re-watching the episode I realise it is probably an all-in-one jumpsuit. But ssssh, details are not important.

***

The outer lights dimmed, signalling the end of the day. The swift tip-tap of steel boot meeting floor sounded briefly as a guard marched past Rimmer and Lister's cell door. Rimmer stood, masked in shadow and outlined by the pale yellow light of the corner lamp.

Rimmer's visual was clearer, facing away from the light and following the beams as they settled onto Lister's wide-eyed face. He blinked, trying to make Rimmer out.

"Lister, I'm going to go wash this stuff off. When I come back, you'll be normal. Good? Good."

Rimmer turned on his heel. So far so good – Lister had the sense to tie himself down. All Rimmer had to do was go to the bathroom and-

He turned back. Was there a reason, Rimmer asked himself. No, not really. He had felt eyes burning into the back of his head. But then, he knew that was Lister. Who else would it have been? He even knew why. And yet he had turned back.

Lister was still staring at him. But… there was something different. That look, that expression, Rimmer thought. Is it softer? Sweeter, perhaps.

What the hell are you thinking!

Rimmer shook his head.

Lister has always had a sweet face.

What?

Lister struggled on the bunk as Rimmer shuffled cautiously, eagerly, nearer. Rimmer's shirt fell from Lister's lap. The shirt with the virus on, Rimmer realised slowly. The shirt and its purple residue had left its mark on Lister's smooth thigh.

"What a mess," Rimmer sighed, dutifully cleaning the sticky flesh with his tongue.

Lister released a long overdue sigh. "About smegging time you joined in."

"Sorry," he replied, clambering onto Lister, his mouth and tongue putting a stop to any more smart remarks that might have followed. Lister's free hand explored Rimmer's vest, fumbling underneath. Rimmer sat back, pulling Lister's trousers and underwear down, leaving them stuck on his tethered leg. His own were next and Lister groaned impatiently as Rimmer lifted his rear onto his lap.

Position-wise there was only one choice. Rimmer spat into his hand and rubbed the end of his cock, trying to gain a little lubrication. With a little persuasion he pushed himself into Lister's writhing body and he began to pound violently. Lister yelled from pleasure only, the virus numbing all feelings of pain and guilt and disgust that may have been present.

Rimmer held Lister onto his lap and continued to push deep into him, the harder the better and the faster he went the more Lister cried out. The sensation was a drug and he couldn't get enough of Lister's moans – the oxygen to his flames of passion.

Rimmer's back arched and glistened as he thrust: his head buried between Lister's neck and the pillow. Finally he threw his head back as he came and came hard, collapsing into Lister's warm arms and thanked by a barrage of soft kisses.

***

It felt like waking up, thought Lister later as he reflected on the moment the virus wore off. It was quick and yet slow. There was a brief moment where he wasn't sure what state he was in. He lay for a moment unsure where he was. Unsure what the last thing he remembered was.

"Rimmer!" Lister bolted upright and yelped as pain shot through his lower back. He fell back, whimpering and turned his head. Rimmer sat on the side of the bed. The blanket draped over his shoulders hiding his face, and he huddled with it, tightly gripping the corners in his hands.

Abruptly he stood, wrapping the blanket around further.

"Rimmer…"

He said nothing, but walked solemnly to the bathroom.

"Rimmer, wait! At least untie me, you sm-"

Rimmer lifted a pair of scissors from a drawer and pushed them across the floor before retreating to the bathroom. Lister leaned cautiously out of the bed, his fingers clawing desperately at the scissors. He finally managed to edge close enough to flip them closer, and he began to saw through the ties feverishly.