Categories > TV > Red Dwarf > Stroke Me A Zipper
The Desultory Nipple was well-known as a hangout for has-been, washed-up bad guys. Fighting, injured, or dead patrons were thrown out of its doors on a schedule one could set a clock with. Chicago gangsters in fedoras skulked in back rooms. A biker with hellfire tattoos, arms like tree trunks, and a length of broken chain snarled insults at everyone who walked in. Her boyfriend looked even meaner. Dark Sith hung moodily in the back, while Nazis spat insults at each other in German as they sat around a circular table and played poker. A Red Lectoid was trying to chat up a very nervous-looking Doctor Strangelove. The Eye of Sauron stared angrily at a beer it could not drink.
It was a place where any Space Hero would be well advised to keep a low profile and watch his back. At a corner table, Ace Rimmer did both.
He was there for the Nazis, and kept a keen eye on them. It would, he estimated, be a few hours before they got drunk enough to start their usual nightly fight over the outcome of one random game or another. He would have to wait in order to bring his plan to completion - and it was a good plan, one worth the frustration of sitting and tapping his fingers for a few hours. And so he waited, waving off the offer of a drink from the tired-looking bargirl. Dick Cheney grabbed her shirt as she walked back to the bar and demanded a refill.
As Ace settled back and pulled out a cheroot, the door jingled, announcing the arrival of another patron. The cheroot fell into Ace's lap, forgotten. The new entry winked at the insult the biker screeched at him, waved at the gangsters, then navigated his way to the dimly-lit corner where Ace sat. Ace swallowed. The vermillion-suited, wavy-haired man with the dazzling grin could only be one person. "Derek Custer, as I live and breathe!"
"Only you don't do either anymore, do yeh, Ace?" Derek replied, snorting out a giggle. Ace stood to embrace the man warmly. Yes; warm, solid, impossibly real; Derek was as large as life and twice as magnificent. Ace broke the hug after a moment and gestured for Derek to join him. Derek pulled a chair out and sat, crossing one booted ankle over the other knee. The bargirl, who had been nervous enough at the sight of one magnificent man in her place, started to hyperventilate.
"What brings you here?" Ace asked. He looked at the cheroot that had fallen to the ground, but the sticky centuries-old mess of unspeakable substances that coated the ground would not yield the slender cigar up easily. Ace gave it up as a lost cause and pulled out another one, accepting a light from Derek as the other man lit a cigarette.
"Oh, a littlea this, a littlea that." Derek sucked in a lungful of smoke, then blew it out of the corner of his mouth in a nonchalantly alluring gesture that Ace filed for future reference. "The Gizanians were beating up on the Slavarkians - you remember the Slavarkians, don't you? Lovely race, very peaceful, brew truly excellent beer. I drove the Gizanians off and told them to stay out. Spent a few days on Slavarkia, but the chief's daughter wanted to get married - you know how it is, don't you?" Derek kicked Ace's boot with a knowing grin. "Then I heard that Princess Bonjella had gotten herself kidnapped again, so I dropped by. But it looks like you're on the case already, eh, Ace?"
Ace nodded. "That's right, Custer, my man. I was just waiting for those fellows over there," he indicated the Nazis with a wave of his cheroot, "to get to the drunk and argumentative stage. Then I'd get mixed up in the brawl and get captured."
Derek frowned. "You, Ace? Captured?"
"Yes. The commander loves to have his ironies, and is one of those who monologues for ages before he kills you. Like the Rendarian captain, you remember him? Oh, what was his name again?" Ace waved his hand.
"Timothy," Derek replied, taking another drag.
"Yes!" Ace nodded again. "Him. Well, the commander is just like that. He won't be able to resist the irony of having the hero who came to rescue the princess shot before her eyes. But when the plane is over the camp, I'll overpower the guard, shoot the pilot, and parachute in to rescue her. I stole in before they moved her into the camp and secreted my motorbike. It will be just the kind of rescue she loves."
Derek laughed. "Oh, she does love her rescues, doesn't she?" He winked. "Does she still say she's a virgin?"
"I think she gave up on that the third time I rescued her." Ace grinned. It was good to talk with someone who /understood/, who didn't immediately try to kill him or worship him on sight. Ace sat back and looked at Derek for a moment, appreciating the man's easy grace as he turned to look at the Nazis over his shoulder. He caught Ace's eye as he turned back, and raised his eyebrows.
"It looks like they'll be a while," Derek said, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.
Ace looked over at them. They were still snarling and holding their cards close. "Probably another few hours."
"Fancy a shag?" Derek asked.
Ace thought for a moment - well, pretended to think for a moment. It was not the kind of offer a sensible human would refuse. "Don't mind if I do." They walked towards the stairway leading to the rooms above. Ace dropped his cheroot in Dick Cheney's drink.
It was, without doubt, the most magnificent shag that Ace had ever experienced. He could have made his holo-flightsuit vanish, but it would not exactly have been fair to the living man, who Ace had to undress manually. But Derek's stubby fingers were surprisingly swift and graceful as they undid Ace's clasps, and Ace had to hurry his peeling back of the other man's vermillion flightsuit a little more than he would have liked. He licked the beige skin underneath as it appeared, and that, at least, slowed the other man down slightly as he removed Ace's layers.
Yes, Ace was surprised that it was such a top-notch shag. He had experienced many, of course, and while some of the women had been star-struck, nervous, giggly, inexperienced, or just plain frigid, a good handful had possessed talented mouths and/or admirable control of their vaginal walls, and Ace thought that he had experienced the best life had to offer, sexually. He tried to figure out, as Derek ran an agile tongue around in his mouth, just what was so good about this encounter. Part of it might have been that Derek was expecting his Japanese-meal form of sexual stamina (or lack thereof), and seemed, indeed, to relish it, pulling out many orgasms before tending to his own pleasure. It might have been that none of the women had possessed strong brown legs that clamped his own like a vise, rocking against him; it was certain that none of them had possessed a penis, which Derek used - its way eased by spit - as if expecting Ace to like it. Ace found that, indeed, he did, and Derek's hand pulled one last, exhausting, twitching orgasm out of him as the other man finally came himself, thrusting into Ace and moaning into his ear, then lapping at that ear with his long tongue as he slid out and lay his head down on Ace's chest. They both lay there for some minutes, Ace floating on the best sort of exhaustion, enjoying the feel of Derek's breath on his chest, stroking the man's soft, thick hair.
Or maybe, Ace pondered as he felt the man's heartbeat, it was all just because the man was /Derek/, and seeing any form of Lister still living, after what he had done to his own Lister, was a blessing he had never expected to receive.
"I... should be going," Ace said, reluctantly, at last. "Heroics call, and all of that."
He felt Derek's giggle through his chest as much as he heard it. "Yeah - heroics call, and you never do." He forestalled Ace's reply with a kiss. "Don't worry - I never do, either." He stood and started to dress; Ace lay and simply watched him as he slithered into his adventuring getup.
Derek walked back over to Ace once he was fully dressed, and kissed the man on the forehead. "Take care of yourself, Ace. It's a tough universe." Ace nodded, then watched the muscles of Derek's rear move under the flightsuit as the lauded Space Hero departed the room.
Ace sighed and sat up, making the effort of will required to re-form his flightsuit. The previous Ace had been right about Derek Custer. Some part of him wanted to feel bad about the situation, but it was a very small part, and it was completely unsuccessful. No, Derek was a hell of a chap. It must have been odd for him to sleep with someone for the first time when he thought he had been doing it for the tenth or hundredth - but on the other hand, maybe he just figured the first-time uneasiness Ace always had was just a part of who the man was.
Maybe, Ace reflected, after this mission... I could see him again. Sometime.
It was a place where any Space Hero would be well advised to keep a low profile and watch his back. At a corner table, Ace Rimmer did both.
He was there for the Nazis, and kept a keen eye on them. It would, he estimated, be a few hours before they got drunk enough to start their usual nightly fight over the outcome of one random game or another. He would have to wait in order to bring his plan to completion - and it was a good plan, one worth the frustration of sitting and tapping his fingers for a few hours. And so he waited, waving off the offer of a drink from the tired-looking bargirl. Dick Cheney grabbed her shirt as she walked back to the bar and demanded a refill.
As Ace settled back and pulled out a cheroot, the door jingled, announcing the arrival of another patron. The cheroot fell into Ace's lap, forgotten. The new entry winked at the insult the biker screeched at him, waved at the gangsters, then navigated his way to the dimly-lit corner where Ace sat. Ace swallowed. The vermillion-suited, wavy-haired man with the dazzling grin could only be one person. "Derek Custer, as I live and breathe!"
"Only you don't do either anymore, do yeh, Ace?" Derek replied, snorting out a giggle. Ace stood to embrace the man warmly. Yes; warm, solid, impossibly real; Derek was as large as life and twice as magnificent. Ace broke the hug after a moment and gestured for Derek to join him. Derek pulled a chair out and sat, crossing one booted ankle over the other knee. The bargirl, who had been nervous enough at the sight of one magnificent man in her place, started to hyperventilate.
"What brings you here?" Ace asked. He looked at the cheroot that had fallen to the ground, but the sticky centuries-old mess of unspeakable substances that coated the ground would not yield the slender cigar up easily. Ace gave it up as a lost cause and pulled out another one, accepting a light from Derek as the other man lit a cigarette.
"Oh, a littlea this, a littlea that." Derek sucked in a lungful of smoke, then blew it out of the corner of his mouth in a nonchalantly alluring gesture that Ace filed for future reference. "The Gizanians were beating up on the Slavarkians - you remember the Slavarkians, don't you? Lovely race, very peaceful, brew truly excellent beer. I drove the Gizanians off and told them to stay out. Spent a few days on Slavarkia, but the chief's daughter wanted to get married - you know how it is, don't you?" Derek kicked Ace's boot with a knowing grin. "Then I heard that Princess Bonjella had gotten herself kidnapped again, so I dropped by. But it looks like you're on the case already, eh, Ace?"
Ace nodded. "That's right, Custer, my man. I was just waiting for those fellows over there," he indicated the Nazis with a wave of his cheroot, "to get to the drunk and argumentative stage. Then I'd get mixed up in the brawl and get captured."
Derek frowned. "You, Ace? Captured?"
"Yes. The commander loves to have his ironies, and is one of those who monologues for ages before he kills you. Like the Rendarian captain, you remember him? Oh, what was his name again?" Ace waved his hand.
"Timothy," Derek replied, taking another drag.
"Yes!" Ace nodded again. "Him. Well, the commander is just like that. He won't be able to resist the irony of having the hero who came to rescue the princess shot before her eyes. But when the plane is over the camp, I'll overpower the guard, shoot the pilot, and parachute in to rescue her. I stole in before they moved her into the camp and secreted my motorbike. It will be just the kind of rescue she loves."
Derek laughed. "Oh, she does love her rescues, doesn't she?" He winked. "Does she still say she's a virgin?"
"I think she gave up on that the third time I rescued her." Ace grinned. It was good to talk with someone who /understood/, who didn't immediately try to kill him or worship him on sight. Ace sat back and looked at Derek for a moment, appreciating the man's easy grace as he turned to look at the Nazis over his shoulder. He caught Ace's eye as he turned back, and raised his eyebrows.
"It looks like they'll be a while," Derek said, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.
Ace looked over at them. They were still snarling and holding their cards close. "Probably another few hours."
"Fancy a shag?" Derek asked.
Ace thought for a moment - well, pretended to think for a moment. It was not the kind of offer a sensible human would refuse. "Don't mind if I do." They walked towards the stairway leading to the rooms above. Ace dropped his cheroot in Dick Cheney's drink.
It was, without doubt, the most magnificent shag that Ace had ever experienced. He could have made his holo-flightsuit vanish, but it would not exactly have been fair to the living man, who Ace had to undress manually. But Derek's stubby fingers were surprisingly swift and graceful as they undid Ace's clasps, and Ace had to hurry his peeling back of the other man's vermillion flightsuit a little more than he would have liked. He licked the beige skin underneath as it appeared, and that, at least, slowed the other man down slightly as he removed Ace's layers.
Yes, Ace was surprised that it was such a top-notch shag. He had experienced many, of course, and while some of the women had been star-struck, nervous, giggly, inexperienced, or just plain frigid, a good handful had possessed talented mouths and/or admirable control of their vaginal walls, and Ace thought that he had experienced the best life had to offer, sexually. He tried to figure out, as Derek ran an agile tongue around in his mouth, just what was so good about this encounter. Part of it might have been that Derek was expecting his Japanese-meal form of sexual stamina (or lack thereof), and seemed, indeed, to relish it, pulling out many orgasms before tending to his own pleasure. It might have been that none of the women had possessed strong brown legs that clamped his own like a vise, rocking against him; it was certain that none of them had possessed a penis, which Derek used - its way eased by spit - as if expecting Ace to like it. Ace found that, indeed, he did, and Derek's hand pulled one last, exhausting, twitching orgasm out of him as the other man finally came himself, thrusting into Ace and moaning into his ear, then lapping at that ear with his long tongue as he slid out and lay his head down on Ace's chest. They both lay there for some minutes, Ace floating on the best sort of exhaustion, enjoying the feel of Derek's breath on his chest, stroking the man's soft, thick hair.
Or maybe, Ace pondered as he felt the man's heartbeat, it was all just because the man was /Derek/, and seeing any form of Lister still living, after what he had done to his own Lister, was a blessing he had never expected to receive.
"I... should be going," Ace said, reluctantly, at last. "Heroics call, and all of that."
He felt Derek's giggle through his chest as much as he heard it. "Yeah - heroics call, and you never do." He forestalled Ace's reply with a kiss. "Don't worry - I never do, either." He stood and started to dress; Ace lay and simply watched him as he slithered into his adventuring getup.
Derek walked back over to Ace once he was fully dressed, and kissed the man on the forehead. "Take care of yourself, Ace. It's a tough universe." Ace nodded, then watched the muscles of Derek's rear move under the flightsuit as the lauded Space Hero departed the room.
Ace sighed and sat up, making the effort of will required to re-form his flightsuit. The previous Ace had been right about Derek Custer. Some part of him wanted to feel bad about the situation, but it was a very small part, and it was completely unsuccessful. No, Derek was a hell of a chap. It must have been odd for him to sleep with someone for the first time when he thought he had been doing it for the tenth or hundredth - but on the other hand, maybe he just figured the first-time uneasiness Ace always had was just a part of who the man was.
Maybe, Ace reflected, after this mission... I could see him again. Sometime.
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