Categories > TV > Red Dwarf
The sexual magnetism virus had a smegging potent smell. It was kinda cherry-like - but not real cherries. It was like cherry-flavored cough syrup, that artificial, full-of-alcohol, too-sweet, Red Coloring #14 cherry-crap smell. Went straight to your groin, though, it did. Like there was a string between your nose and your cock, and as soon as you got yerself a whiff, it jerked up and gave you a stiffy you could pound nails with. Not just that, though; there was a kind of desire there, too, a wantin' to get your hands on that other person and kiss him senseless, feel his tongue in your mouth, satisfy him with your hands or your arse or whatever else would get him off, like his pleasure was the whole point of the universe, and your own excitement just a tangent. Hard to resist. I could feel that Kochanski wasn't resistin' at all; she was hot and sweaty in my arms, just achin' for that smeghead, and I knew that she was wantin' to do to him just what I was burnin' to do to him, too. I knew that if I had let both of us go, we woulda done it in concert, however it would have worked, not carin' at all that the other was there as long as he was happy.
Yeah, him. Smeghead. Just like that bastard used to be, before death and psi-moons and worlds of clones and all of the other things that made him realize he was a bastard, and made him be less of one. He wouldn't've used that virus like that, nossir, not the Arnold Rimmer I helped on his way to bein' a Space Hero.
Not that he would have had to.
Kochanski asked me later - after I had played that prank with the rest of the virus, and maybe it was wrong, but damn, I needed to take him down a peg. She asked why I was immune to it. I just told her the truth - I'm not - and let her wonder. Yeh see, I've had practice. Lots of it. Sittin' around with a hard-on, wantin' to do things to him I never thought I would want to do to /anyone/, let alone him. Practice makes perfect, I guess; practice at desirin' and not takin', practice at giggling and grinnin' and making mean jokes when yer on fire. Sure, it's not the same man, but he looks so much like him - from his stupid polished boots to his ridiculous curly hair - that it was easy to pretend he was, and resist.
Kochanski just shrugged and said yeh can build up an immunity to any virus, if you're exposed long enough. She doesn't know how right she is.
Yeah, him. Smeghead. Just like that bastard used to be, before death and psi-moons and worlds of clones and all of the other things that made him realize he was a bastard, and made him be less of one. He wouldn't've used that virus like that, nossir, not the Arnold Rimmer I helped on his way to bein' a Space Hero.
Not that he would have had to.
Kochanski asked me later - after I had played that prank with the rest of the virus, and maybe it was wrong, but damn, I needed to take him down a peg. She asked why I was immune to it. I just told her the truth - I'm not - and let her wonder. Yeh see, I've had practice. Lots of it. Sittin' around with a hard-on, wantin' to do things to him I never thought I would want to do to /anyone/, let alone him. Practice makes perfect, I guess; practice at desirin' and not takin', practice at giggling and grinnin' and making mean jokes when yer on fire. Sure, it's not the same man, but he looks so much like him - from his stupid polished boots to his ridiculous curly hair - that it was easy to pretend he was, and resist.
Kochanski just shrugged and said yeh can build up an immunity to any virus, if you're exposed long enough. She doesn't know how right she is.
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