Categories > TV > Red Dwarf > Substitutes
Rimmer stretched out on his bunk, pulling the sheet up with one hand to cover his nudity and letting out a contented sigh. Legion hadn't been joking. This hard-light drive was magnificent! He put his hands behind his head and started doing what he had most liked to do after a good bout of the horizontal tango, when alive.
He had never been one to smoke after sex, or drink, or do any of the other grotty things people tended to do in their post-coital lassitude. He did crave pizza a bit, true, but typically, he would talk - at great length, and ramblingly, usually about his favorite topic - himself. Fortunately, his bedmate was very patient. He attributed that to his sexual prowess. A sated lover is one who doesn't mind when you ramble, and Rimmer certainly did ramble. He talked about childhood games with his brothers, and the way lace knickers would itch. He talked about his brief stint playing the piano, his brief stint playing the clarinet, his brief stint playing football, his brief stint in the math club (they tossed him for insufficient social skills), his brief stint in Space Corps training, and the gnat's wingbeat of time he spent snurrback riding. He talked about joining JMC as a surrogate for the Space Corps, and described in detail the proper wrist-flick to use to remove desiccated chicken chunks from a clogged vending nozzle.
Talking about joining JMC inevitably lead to the subject of Lister, and to several facial contortions at which, fortunately, his bedmate was too sated to giggle. "Of all of the people to be the last human alive," he sighed. "I'm ashamed, truly I am. Can you imagine the impression we're making on the aliens? It's like having a drunk and smelly aunt at your wedding, clapping everyone on the back and talking far too loudly about your toilet training days." Rimmer shook his head. "I don't know why the blighter was so blasted /popular/, either. He got away with everything! Everyone on the ship liked him, no matter how much of a pain in the arse he was. Even you."
Rimmer let a little bitterness seep into his voice as he turned on his side. "Yes, he told me about you two. And," Rimmer swallowed, "I understand, I really do. I don't understand the appeal, but," Rimmer groaned and turned onto his back again, "it's unavoidable. I have to admit," he looked at his bedmate nervously out of the corner of his eye, "I've wondered, now and again... well, what was it like? Was it any good? I'm curious." Hearing no response, Rimmer turned on his side again. "Oh, close your mouth - it can't be that much of a shock. I mean," Rimmer shrugged uncomfortably, "he has a certain - /je ne sais quoi/." He closed his eyes, thinking of Lister's hand on his thigh. The thought had a certain effect on him, and he opened his eyes again. "Er - do you fancy another go?" Of course she did. Rimmer pulled her close, mumbling, "Just - if you're still seeing him, please don't tell him what I said..."
He had never been one to smoke after sex, or drink, or do any of the other grotty things people tended to do in their post-coital lassitude. He did crave pizza a bit, true, but typically, he would talk - at great length, and ramblingly, usually about his favorite topic - himself. Fortunately, his bedmate was very patient. He attributed that to his sexual prowess. A sated lover is one who doesn't mind when you ramble, and Rimmer certainly did ramble. He talked about childhood games with his brothers, and the way lace knickers would itch. He talked about his brief stint playing the piano, his brief stint playing the clarinet, his brief stint playing football, his brief stint in the math club (they tossed him for insufficient social skills), his brief stint in Space Corps training, and the gnat's wingbeat of time he spent snurrback riding. He talked about joining JMC as a surrogate for the Space Corps, and described in detail the proper wrist-flick to use to remove desiccated chicken chunks from a clogged vending nozzle.
Talking about joining JMC inevitably lead to the subject of Lister, and to several facial contortions at which, fortunately, his bedmate was too sated to giggle. "Of all of the people to be the last human alive," he sighed. "I'm ashamed, truly I am. Can you imagine the impression we're making on the aliens? It's like having a drunk and smelly aunt at your wedding, clapping everyone on the back and talking far too loudly about your toilet training days." Rimmer shook his head. "I don't know why the blighter was so blasted /popular/, either. He got away with everything! Everyone on the ship liked him, no matter how much of a pain in the arse he was. Even you."
Rimmer let a little bitterness seep into his voice as he turned on his side. "Yes, he told me about you two. And," Rimmer swallowed, "I understand, I really do. I don't understand the appeal, but," Rimmer groaned and turned onto his back again, "it's unavoidable. I have to admit," he looked at his bedmate nervously out of the corner of his eye, "I've wondered, now and again... well, what was it like? Was it any good? I'm curious." Hearing no response, Rimmer turned on his side again. "Oh, close your mouth - it can't be that much of a shock. I mean," Rimmer shrugged uncomfortably, "he has a certain - /je ne sais quoi/." He closed his eyes, thinking of Lister's hand on his thigh. The thought had a certain effect on him, and he opened his eyes again. "Er - do you fancy another go?" Of course she did. Rimmer pulled her close, mumbling, "Just - if you're still seeing him, please don't tell him what I said..."
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