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Stretching out across Rimmer and the bed, Lister let out a well fucked sigh and grinned over at Rimmer who was still breathing heavily and slightly flushed. Hard-light holograms didn't need air and didn't feel temperature but he revelled in even the uncomfortable sensations of sex, it grounded him and made the whole experience much more realistic. Lister shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable, dragging the slightly ragged blanket further across himself, to a half-hearted groan of protest from Rimmer.
“Relax man, you’ll get it back eventually when I overheat.”
“You say that everytime Listy and yet here I am, blanketless and cold whilst my husband languishes in luxury. You really must share with the needy, where’s your compassion, your heart?” Came the slightly indignant but soft reply.
“You’re one to talk about heartlessness.” Lister chuckled, easing some of the blanket around Rimmer.
“You give me the smallest scrap of cover I’ve ever seen with an insubordinate smile! This will not go unpunished!” It was far too late at night for such a shrill outcry in Lister’s opinion.
“Oh yeah. What are you gonna do about it, big man?”
“I’ll put you on report again, squire.”
“Not if I get there first.”
“Why you little-”
They both leapt from the bed at the same time, focused on the small black book which rested on the table. Reaching desperately, they landed in a heap just off the side of the bed. It was as they hit the floor that they remembered that they were pushing the upper bound of middle aged and their bodies were not always the most cooperative.
“Ooof.” Lister dragged himself back into the bed, offering a hand to Rimmer as they manoeuvred to their previous position, with a slightly more equal blanket distribution. Lister looked down at himself with distaste as he was confronted with the stark reality that his body didn’t behave or look as he wanted. This wasn’t a new realisation, but the repetition and domesticity of the life he was now living was starting to make him feel a tad old which had a tendency to lead to some less than fully considered decisions.
“I’m getting old mate, I should probably do something to lose the weight.” He mused dejectedly - poking the offending flesh, which jiggled comfortably with the force. Rimmer looked more put out by this suggestion than he had expected, given his somewhat cruel habit of forcing Lister to take care of himself. Rimmer blinked slowly and curled up with his head on Lister’s chest.
“I like you the way you are, don’t go changing on me again.”
“Ah hah! So you finally admit that I’m a total snack, that you love me chubby and find it dead sexy. That’s what you’re saying, Rimmer, yeah?” (Disagreeing with Rimmer took precedence over any internal crisis he was having.)
“Sure Listy,” came the slightly muffled response, “but I am attempting to sleep. I’m glad your self confidence has ascended to planet delusion, but could we possibly have this very intellectually stimulating conversation when I’m slightly more awake.”
“Sure thing big man.” Lister was giddy with the small truth he’d got out of Rimmer (who had very little filter when he was tired it had to be said). “I bet you were just going crazy when I was pregnant, I was huge then and properly round. Eh, mate?”
At the mention of Lister's pregnancy Rimmer had let out an involuntary gasp and was now trying to play it off as simply a cough, despite the shifty look in his eyes and the furious blush that had taken over his entire face. While Lister was expecting some reaction to the pregnancy, given Rimmer’s prudish dislike of most bodily functions, this was something else.
“Me pregnancy really got you going then?”
“No, Lister, you don’t-”
“You wanking everytime I waddled out of the room?”
“Lister-”
“You’ve been hiding that for a while.”
“Lister-”
“What about it fired up your engine, Rimsy?”
“I’m not really too sure.” Rimmer said in a small prim voice, having decided that Lister wasn’t going to let this go until he got a satisfactory answer and that just agreeing to the mad smegger was the quickest way to get back to bed. And if it was bringing back some rather pleasant memories, then that was nobody's business but his own.
It was about a month after they’d got back from the parallel universe that the Holly Hop drive had thrown them into. Lister wasn’t coping well. The ship had a small supply of pregnancy tests in the medi bay and if it weren’t for the threat inherent in the dwindling pile Lister probably would have been taking one every hour, as it was he had rationed himself to two a week. Despite Rimmer’s reminders that it was unlikely to show up for a while, every negative result calmed him a little more. There was very little to do but wait until he had passed out of the danger window and hope to God or Someone that Rimmer was stupid enough not to inquire as to the mechanics of even the possibility of pregnancy.
It was all going swell until Rimmer gleefully announced he was going to be an uncle.
There was very little to be done and whilst Lister was uncomfortable with the idea of carrying a baby he was even more uncomfortable with the idea of getting rid of it. Anyway, he was an enlightened 23rd century guy and he could handle this easy. He knew rationally that men carried babies all the time, that it was common enough in animal species, that even cis men could get pregnant now, he’d had pregnant friends and never viewed them any differently. He really should be able to just get over this. It was in this fragile state, lying listlessly on the bottom bunk, that Rimmer found Lister.
“What’s up with you then milado, you know you can’t expect preferential treatment because of your condition. There’s simply no excuse for this level of slobbery, and on my bunk as well!”
“Oh shut up man, I’m really not in the mood right now.”
“Buck up and get on with it.” Rimmer snapped. “You’re pregnant, so what? It's not that painful and you don’t even look properly fat yet. This is good news Listy, the human race doesn’t end with you and you get to be a dad!”
“Rimmer, please man. I’m really tired and I just want to go to bed. I’m holding up a smegging black card!”
“Not good enough.” Rimmer tried to squat awkwardly as if on the edge of the bed but gave up when Lister waved a hand through him and sat on the floor cross legged like a primary school child in an important assembly. “Tell me what could possibly dull the spark of life and leave you in a slobby depressive slump, or admit you’re just being lazy.”
“You’re a smeghead, you know that Rimmer, don't you? It's just - well it's just that I’m a bloke see, and normal men don’t get pregnant. Just makes me feel sort of smeggy about the whole thing, alright?”
“Lister, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“What the hell man?!”
“You are one of the smeggiest, oddest, most repulsive people I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Being pregnant doesn’t even make the top ten of the grossest things you’ve done. You pick your nose and wipe it everywhere, you routinely demonstrate your inability to play the guitar, you chew your own toenails, you are completely unmotivated, you have utterly no respect for the chain of command, you’re stupidly kind and ridiculously faithful. Don’t even get me started on your relationship with your friends, no self respecting heterosexual male, such as myself, would go anywhere near Peterson after 2 pints.” Rimmer grinned with the self satisfaction of a good and lengthy put down, it had perhaps wandered in the middle and sounded even complimentary but he felt he’d pulled it back convincingly at the end. He sneered slightly fakely. “Really, being pregnant is perhaps the least gay thing you’ve ever done.”
“Well cheers for that man, I’m definitely feeling better now.” Lister scoffed, but it was half hearted and he had propped himself slightly more upright in the bunk.
“I’m just reporting the facts, milado, nothing I can do about it.”
They sat like that for a few minutes, pretending to be put out by the conversation but both feeling just a little bit better.
Lister had shifted them, with Rimmer’s compliance, so that he was at the head of the bunk with Rimmer sat in between his spread thighs and Lister's hands lightly stroking his torso, warming up for what he hoped was to be their second round of the night.
“You not too tired for this then?” He asked, mostly to be a bastard but also to make sure that Rimmer was actually awake enough to engage with whatever happened and he wouldn’t end up falling asleep on Lister mid-fuck again.
“Oh shut up Lister, it's not like I have a choice anyway. Wasn’t going to get any sleep with you badgering me.” He said, still blushing profusely and with an intonation that implied he was very on board with whatever Lister had planned but was still self-aware enough to try and maintain his reputation. Perfect , thought Lister, I can reduce him to begging while he tries to deny he even likes it .
“Yeah sure, and you’re not thinking about me big round belly, the skin stretched taut. You wouldn’t dream of imagining me in this very bed trying to reach around me bump to play with myself, begging for you, needy and helpless and pregnant.” His dirty talk was a bit aimless as he tried to triangulate what Rimmer liked. He wandered through anything he thought could be possibly related to his pregnant body, leaning slightly more heavily on the weight stuff because that’s how they’d arrived at the topic. Rimmer was reacting, his breathing deepening just a little bit and a certain organ getting interested in proceedings. Lister would forever be thankful that he wasn’t the only one that could go multiple times.
As he kept up a steady stream of vague but filthy words in Rimmer’s ear, Lister crept a hand down over Rimmer’s stomach. Carding his fingers through the sparse hairs, he stopped just above Rimmer’s dick and began to just explore, warming Rimmer up and teasing him. Lister kept his hand away from Rimmer’s dick deliberately, brushing fingertips over his thighs, scratching at the trails of curls leading down, lightly pinching along the crease of his hip but never even grazing where Rimmer wanted his touch the most.
Lister stormed into the bunk room looking as intimidating as he could over his growing belly, he flopped on the bottom bunk which he had temporarily stolen from Rimmer once he stopped being able to climb the ladder.
“How easily could we flush the Cat out of the airlock, d’you think?” He asked more harshly than Rimmer was expecting. Lister scrubbed at his face, trying to make sure he wouldn’t cry. It wasn’t really the Cat’s fault, he didn’t have any conception of human society or gender roles but his comments about Lister’s newly visible pregnancy were making him feel more dysphoric than anything else had. He was pulled from his painful musings by Rimmer’s softer than usual answer.
“What did that blasted moggy do now?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, he just doesn’t understand humans.” The full stop in Lister’s voice was obvious and final, signalling a clear end of the conversation. Rimmer wasn’t sure what to do now, Lister was much less fun to argue with lately but Rimmer had no new conversation material so he fell back on the old classics.
“You’ve gained weight.” He said shortly, leaning over the railings of his bunk as he peered at Lister’s slumped form.
“Rimmer-”
“No, no excuses. You’ve definitely put on weight, should probably exercise more, try to lose the beer belly. I’m only looking out for your health Listy, okay?”
“What are you on about, man?”
“There’s no point denying it, milado. I'm afraid you're getting fatter. Not surprising given your recent slobbish behaviour and your continued less than graceful ageing. I do hate to be the bearer of bad news.” He said with the tone of someone who was deliriously ecstatic to be the bearer of this bad news in particular, shaking his head at a now upright and outraged Lister.
“Rimmer, seriously, what the actual smeg is happening?” Rimmer was far too busy enjoying Lister’s reactions, which seemed slightly more severe than usual, to actually think about what he was saying. He was just following the script of their interactions, it wasn’t his fault if Lister decided to completely ignore the set precedent. Thinking about it, it was just like Lister to deviate from the predetermined rules of engagement like this for a laugh or to try and throw him off. Determined not to be distracted by whatever Lister was trying to pull, Rimmer barrelled ahead, ignoring Lister’s complete botched lines.
“It’s really a good thing that the whole crew is dead, the last human doesn’t have anyone around to hold him to standard. I bet you’re so glad that Captain Hollister isn’t here to reprimand you for your slobbery. I seem to be the only one left to take you to task.”
“Listen mate, as much as I’d love to stand around and get called fat all day I have stuff to do. Kryten managed to figure out one of the ultrasound machines and he wants to have a go with it as soon as possible.”
Ignoring Rimmer’s blushing and stuttering, Lister sauntered out of the room and down the corridor to the medi-bay. Strangely enough, proving a point to his neurotic bunkmate made the thing he’d been dreading all day much easier. He decided to ignore this thought in favour of replaying the way Rimmer's mouth had been opening and closing desperately like a fish.
As Lister lay on a medical bed with his shirt tucked up under his armpits he considered what Rimmer had been saying. His stomach, which was currently smeared with some kind of goop, didn’t look particularly ‘pregnant’. It maybe looked like he’d gained weight, put on a bit of a beer belly as Rimmer had said, but there was nothing to distinguish it from the average middle aged guy. He knew it was going to get worse, but for now it wasn’t too bad to look at, it didn't sit too oddly, and didn't disturb his picture of himself that much. Something else Rimmer had said floated back to him, ‘the last human doesn’t have anyone around to hold him to standard.’ For the first time since he’d stumbled out of that stasis pod, the sheer loneliness of his existence was a comfort, the only person here who’s opinion he cared about was himself. In the enormous blackness of space and the isolating reality of the last human being alive, what did it matter that he was pregnant? What did anything matter?
Rimmer lay stretched out on the bottom bunk, trying very hard to ignore the smell of Lister that was everywhere. He racked his brains over and over for any blackmail material that could possibly stop Lister telling the rest of the crew about the embarrassing interaction they just had. After a few minutes of thinking hard he realised that, quiet without his permission, his thought had turned to Lister’s unfairly attractive face. He groaned into the silent room and tried to scrub those thoughts from his brain, marshalling them to 19th century naval warfare. Now that he was aware of it, it collapsed into Lister even quicker. Those twinkling eyes, unbearable grin, expressive hamster cheeks, leather clad legs, thin and skin tight tshirts. Even his grossest habits seemed endearing through this rose-tinted (or lust-tinted) lens his brain was unwittingly applying to his memories.
This had been building for quite some time, perhaps even before the accident, but the changes in their dynamic over the past few months as Lister engaged less and less with their banter made it clear. It had become almost domestic and Rimmer ached with it. Not that Rimmer would admit any of this out loud, or even to his diary yet, but it was impossible to not admit it to himself (if only to plan how to best hide it).
“So, I’m wondering,” said Lister conversationally, whilst one of his hands played with Rimmer’s nipples, the other resting just above his dick, “what was it about the pregnancy that made you react like that? Just for research purposes and the like you understand.”
“I - smeg, like that - I already told you Lister I don’t know.”
“Did you like how big I was? Like watching me grow for you? All big and round and bred nicely for you? Maybe you wanted to put a baby of your own in me?”
Rimmer’s face went redder than a tomato and not in the sexy way, he coughed and spluttered his way through a disavowal. Throughout all this, Lister’s hands were still working. Dancing up and down his torso and stroking gentle circles just above where Rimmer wanted them desperately. He was close to begging, not something an aspiring officer would ever do, and as such tried to hurry Lister along by telling him to give guessing another go. Nothing caught his attention until Lister switched tracks again.
“Maybe you were protective, looking out for your weaker crewmates? Wanted to protect the omega of the pack? Safeguard me and the kids like the big strong alpha you are? Old iron balls and all that?”
“Hmm.” It's not an immediate no like the last time and Lister thinks he’s struck gold until Rimmer continues in a soft voice. “You were much more human, more real like that but I never had any delusions that I could protect you, coward that I am. I wanted to safeguard you of course but it was very much maternal and domestic, or I think it was, I was going through rather a lot at that point and my emotional repression was in overdrive.”
“Gonna be honest mate, that’s super cute an’ all but I’m coming up empty on anything else that changed about me. I’m not hugely up to speed on pregnancy kinks, I guess we’ll just have to do some research.”
“You can drop it Lister.” Rimmer mumbled, quickly becoming embarrassed by how quickly he’d agreed to this stupid idea. It had accomplished nothing and now he was horny and desperate. “I’m sure it was nothing in the first place and it's not like there was anything that could be done about it anyway.”
“I’m not dropping it, we will figure it out and we will do something about it, now buckle up darlin’.”
“Lister, I really don't thi-” Rimmer moaned loudly as the hand that had been wandering and teasing for so long finally gripped his dick and then stopped completely.
“So. I was pregnant. I was big and round. I had swollen ankles and a bad back. Me nipples were absolutely killin’. I smelt awful, though that could be that I spent most of my time vegetating in bed. Oh!” Lister mused through everything he could think of relating to his pregnancy, only stopping on the last one when Rimmer’s dick jumped noticeably in his hand. “Oh, there we go. Was it the scent thing?”
Rimmer was bright red again and dazed by the realisation that had struck him but gathered enough awareness to shake his head.
“What else? Me hibernating, lazing about in bed all day, slobbing it up.” Rimmer moaned at that description and opened his mouth as if he was about to explain himself before Lister cut him off with a soft chuckle.
“Thought you hated me laziness, if I had known it got you going like this I might never get out of bed.” A noise that might be best described as a whine was pulled from Rimmer as he hid his face in the blanket, refusing to meet Lister’s eye. “Hey now, none of that darlin’,” Lister soothed, pulling the blanket down and tilting Rimmer’s chin up. “It’s okay Rimmer, whatever it is that gets you going, it's all okay. If this is going to make you uncomfortable we can stop.”
“No!” Rimmer near shouted in response and then tugged the blanket back up to hide. As much as Lister tried to stop it, another laugh escaped him. He felt mean to tease Rimmer right now; showing any emotion about anything was difficult for him and to get him begging and moaning like this even as he tried to fight it was definitely doing something for Lister. They could unpack where this came from and why Rimmer was so obsessed with it in relation to his pregnancy after Lister had fucked his husband silly.
“God, I spent so much time in bed just doing smeg all. That bump was super useful to rest curries on, and once I got too big for shirts it was so much easier because nothing got stained apart from me skin.” While Lister whispered in Rimmer’s ear his other hand had finally started moving. He stroked Rimmer slowly, lazily, almost as if he couldn't be bothered. Rimmer was going to go crazy.
Lister walked into the bunkroom slowly, putting his half-empty pizza box on the metal table and making his way over to the mirror. Rimmer looked up and then looked abruptly back down at his book. Lister was wearing only a thin off-white boiler suit which stretched and clung obscenely to his belly and other parts lower down which Rimmer didn’t want to acknowledge. At least he was wearing something today, at some point most of his shirts had ceased to fit and he had taken to just not wearing a top at all. Rimmer was suffering and it had been growing steadily worse since his epiphany a few months ago. Despite his own conviction in the strength of his subtlety, if Lister wasn’t pregnant and convinced Rimmer hated his guts he would have picked up on it almost immediately. Rimmer peeked over his book to see Lister examining himself critically in the mirror.
“I look like a smegging darts player. I look absolutely disgustin’”
“Hey no, you look fine.” Rimmer’s voice was pitched just slightly too high for it to be sincere but Lister had yet to figure out the joke. “You’re blooming.” And there it was. “You’ve got a glow about you.”
“Ah smeg off Rimmer, I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh you poor thing, hormones playing up are they?” So sue him, that made him laugh just slightly and Rimmer’s mother hen act was so very cute. Lister decided he needed to have a little fun, maybe get back into the old routine. He focused very hard on keeping his voice sad as he spoke.
“Oh hardy ha. You should see my nipples man, they’re like rawl plugs, they’re so tender." Rimmer's instinctive recoil suggested that he had taken the bait, now to reel him in. “Look at this, look.” He started unbuttoning the stained boiler suit he was wearing, slowly to heighten the tension, waiting for Rimmer to object.
“Listy, I know it's not easy for you to be pregnant and I’m trying to be supportive but I don’t want to see your engorged nipples! Not now, not ever!” Rimmer had started out sounding softer than he had intended but he found enough panic by the end to sound properly outraged and shrill. Lister was near to laughing out loud, it seemed Rimmer had been properly hooked. His face was getting redder by the second and his eyes were darting all around the room, desperately trying not to look at Lister’s exposed chest. Lister could feel himself edging closer to the punchline but wanted to up the stakes again, give Rimmer a chance to back down, to fold.
“My ankles have swollen up too, they’re like a pair of prized marrows. Remember what they used to be like? I used to have brilliant ankles.”
“I don’t want to know! These constant bulletins about the state of your body, it’s worrying.” Rimmer’s voice sounded strained, his eyes now flitting down Lister's legs as if he was remembering the very sexy state of Lister’s pre-pregnancy ankles. He had the demeanour of a Victorian gentleman walking past a flower seller with skirts that weren’t floor length. Half scandalised and half so smegging horny he might burst. Lister, of course, had not picked up that particular subtext but he had clocked Rimmer’s intense reaction and was ready to drop his carefully crafted bombshell.
“This is quite normal,” he paused to look at Rimmer’s naive expression and mentally high-five himself, “a lot of husbands get a bit queasy about the physical changes.”
And there it was. Lister saw it land and Rimmer’s eyebrows rise almost off his face. He went beet red and started stuttering half formed excuses. Lister turned back to mirror, the victory helped soothe the blow of his nearly nine month big bump. Rimmer composed himself and decided that if Lister was going to play dirty he would have little choice to retaliate in kind.
“This is the point, this is exactly the point. I am not your husband! I’m a healthy, rough and tumble, lock up your daughters, tight and hardened astro. I don’t want to know.” Rimmer was concerned that he had come on a little strong, that his statement may have not been 100% believable, but satisfied himself that his character was strong enough that Lister must have already taken those things to be true. Lister was still riding the high of his previous victory and so gave Rimmer a respite and said something closer to sincere.
“Well, how do you think I feel? A woman has made me pregnant.” Rimmer was shocked by the truth in Lister’s voice and it rather threw him off. He had been expecting a witty comeback, the next move in their insult based chess game, something that made him angry or embarrassed or confused. Not this, not gentle and honest truth. He had no idea how to respond, what he planned to say suddenly felt outlandishly harsh. Lister had side-stepped their comfortable and usual dance and it rocked Rimmer out of his distaste, pushed him to feel awkward about offending Lister, he felt himself being almost delicate.
“For heaven's sake Listy, you’d think you were the first male to ever have a baby.”
“I am.” He most definitely was not but Rimmer didn’t need to know everything Lister knew about men having babies.
“You’ve seen the case studies, male baboons have done it loads of times. And they certainly didn’t insist on showing each other their varicose veins.” Lister was somewhat taken aback by Rimmer’s line of reasoning, he was taken aback by Rimmer’s knowledge about anything in this field. He was expecting some half-remembered wishy-washy argument about seahorses or trans dads or even cis men who used womb-transplant tech (well, he was actually expecting Rimmer to tell him to shut and stop being so emotional). He had no idea what to say or how to continue. The fun and easy banter they’d worked hard to build up was crumbling again, under the stress of honesty, of sincerity, of things left unsaid.
"At least you don't have to have a caesarean, you don't have to go under the knife."
"Kryten's getting better by the day, you'll be fine. He’s been practising on mangoes"
There was an awkward silence as both men contemplated their nonsense conversation, it seemed to epitomise a months-long shift in their relationship. They had both adopted wildly different approaches to communication. With Lister making banal and predictable comments with a heavy tone in an attempt to convey his true emotions. On the other hand Rimmer was saying everything he meant, trying to comfort Lister, but with a tone of scathing derision - as far as he could manage it. This wasn’t working and they both knew it, Lister was too tightly wound to not engage with Rimmer’s bullshit and Rimmer was too terrified of rejection to be sincere. Neither of them knew if things would go back to normal after the pregnancy, or if they really wanted that (there were some concrete improvements to their interactions which would be forfeit if they regressed to safer ground once the pressure receded).
There was of course the idea of the babies to contend with, how they would bring up two children in the wastes of deep space with only one physical human was a problem that was being staunchly ignored to give everyone involved some peace of mind. Would adding children to the mix make their relationship better or worse? Would it bring them closer together or drive them further apart than ever? Which was the preferred scenario? Where would these changes lead them?
Lister had manoeuvred them so that he could grind himself on Rimmer's thigh whilst still working a hand over his dick and whispering in his ear. "God, I'm so hot and worked up for you right now. I'm probably sweating and sticky, I'm so gross and I might not even shower. I'll just lie here in these damp sheets and sleep."
Rimmer's hips jerked underneath Lister and his breathing stuttered around a moan. Lister was secretly very proud of having reduced Rimmer so quickly and had great plans to take him further apart tonight. The only problem with his ingeniously crafted plan was his own arousal, his train of thought kept being disrupted by a particularly rough spot on Rimmer’s thigh that shot sparks through his cock every few passes. If his hips kept this pace he'd end up finishing before Rimmer could properly beg and that would be a shame indeed.
"Maybe I should stop right here. I'm getting tired, you know. Maybe I'll just get myself off and go back to bed, leave you to sort yourself out, give my lazy wrists a break."
"You should put that insubordinate and vile mouth to use, squire." Gasped out Rimmer.
"Oh yeah?" Lister was severely enjoying the power he held just in his voice.
"Oh please Lister, keep talking or do something - ahh smeg - do something just as good or or anything really. Please - I - I - please!"
"You remember me pregnant, yeah?"
"How could I forget, you barely moved. The image of you lazing in this bed was all I saw every morning for nearly 9 months." Rimmer tried very hard to inject venom into the statement but the moan drawn out of him may have undercut his authority just slightly.
"Yeah, I didn't get much done. Couldn't really, I was so tired all the time. Couldn't even really move by the end." Rimmer actually whimpered. "I was so smegging horny all the time and there was nothing I could do. You could have fucked me and I would have been too lazy to do anything. I'd just have laid back and taken it, barely moving around you."
Rimmer was nearing the end now, Lister was well calibrated to see it coming, the whining gasps and erratic thrusting of his hips were telltale signs that he was barrelling towards the edge. Lister answered in kind, grinding his hips hard to properly fuck his cock against Rimmer's thigh. They were coming apart together but he still tried to maintain composure in his voice and words, not letting up on Rimmer for a second. Rimmer on the other hand was past trying to stay coherent and was now hanging onto the sheets with every scrap of awareness he had left.
“Smeg Rimmer. I just have no ambition, love to lie around all day slobbin’ it up. I’ve got no aspirations, couldn’t care less about going ‘up, up, up the ziggurat’. Totally complete and fulfilled lying in bed eating a good vindaloo. And I - Oh smeg Rimmer that’s good! - I am just a complete and utter space bum.”
By this point Lister was struggling to keep any train of thought and was being increasingly distracted by his own building orgasm. Giving up on dirty talk, reasoning that whatever garbled mess he came out with wouldn’t be sufficiently interesting to do anything for Rimmer, he sped up his hands and hips and leant forwards to give Rimmer a slow and filthy kiss until they both came. Rimmer went first, wrenching his head back and shaking through it, spurting weakly over Lister's fingers and his own belly. Lister followed shortly after, legs squeezing tight around Rimmer’s thigh, hips thrusting weakly until he was too over sensitive for any more.
They both lay there quietly for a few minutes before Lister groaned and pushed himself up, grabbing a handful of tissues from the notch in the wall. He cleaned them up quietly, Rimmer’s cum fizzled out of existence once it wasn’t in contact with his body but the ritual was calming and grounding for both of them. His movements roused Rimmer who gently took a tissue from Lister and helped him out before balling up everything in hand and lobbing it towards the bin on the far side of the room. It was a testament to how far gone Rimmer was that he barely cringed when it missed by miles. Rimmer stretched out comfortably on the bed, tugging the blanket off the floor and laying it equally over both of them.
It took a few minutes but eventually they comfortably settled with little conversation. It was abundantly clear that Rimmer was exhausted, and Lister was well on the way to joining him. After some brief but brutal blanket wars they finally reached a position which was agreeable to both of them, snuggling close despite the discomfort of their body heat. After such an intense experience the assurance and security that physical closeness provided was welcoming, Lister relaxed into the much needed embrace but before he drifted off entirely he mumbled something to Rimmer.
“We should talk about this in the morning.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it, if not for you then for me.”
“Fine, but I do it under protest.” Rimmer’s voice was heavy with sleep, but it was enough of an assurance to satisfy Lister.
“Love you, ‘night Smeghead.”
“Love you too Listy, sleep well”.