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“Spanners!”
“Eh?” Lister can’t muster a more eloquent response to this bizarrely handsome version of Rimmer looking at him as though … as though what?
Whatever Ace had expected, he instantly moved on from it. “I’m sorry, you reminded me of a fellow I once knew. What’s your handle?”
“Lister. Dave Lister.”
“Of course it is. Put it there, Dave. You look a great bloke to be in a scrape with.”
Lister continues observing Ace as he introduces himself to the rest of the crew, rubbing his hand as it smarts from the sheer force of Ace’s macho version of a handshake. He’s the only one Ace touches, he notices. OK, not an option in Holly’s case, even if she clearly wishes otherwise.
And it’s understandable with Cat too, given his injury. But he could have with Kryten, technically.
“My God, it’s me, only much more handsome!”
Lister doesn’t know whether to laugh or cringe at the subsequent conversation. The gulf between what Ace expects of a version of himself and the way Rimmer reacts is so wide it’s ridiculous. Embarrassing.
“The starboard engine is repairable, but it’s a two-man job. Any volunteers?”
“Yeah OK, count me in. I’ve got a window in my schedule this afternoon.”
Ace sighs inwardly with relief as Spanners - no, Lister dammit - behaves as a version of Dave Lister should, but he can’t stop himself trying to give this alien Arnold Rimmer chances to redeem himself. To no avail.
He narrows his focus to the engine emergency. This Lister clearly isn’t a trained engineer, but he’s a willing and quick learner. It almost feels like old times as the pair of them brave the howling storm and fix the damaged engine, although not without a lot of effort and acrobatics.
They rejoin the others ecstatic and high on adrenaline, but not for long. Ace finds it harder and harder to stay civil as Rimmer continues to snipe at them. How dare he talk to Skipper like that? He’s on the verge of losing his temper when it becomes obvious that there are still more important things to worry about, like operating on Skipper’s friend Cat (who bears quite the resemblance to a younger incarnation of the Padre).
He firmly squashes down the way he’d felt at Skipper’s calming hand on his arm to the furthest recesses of his brain. First things first.
Lister quickly buries the images in his head. Cat is in serious smegging danger here, what is he doing thinking about how Ace’s hair is still damp from the storm outside, the way he looks just as good windswept and tousled as- Stop.
Some time later, with Cat’s leg successfully saved and the fashion-conscious feline busy selecting patterns for his cast, Lister and Ace leave him to Kryten’s care and go for a smoke break.
Lister hasn’t actually smoked for months now, but eagerly accepts the offer of a cheroot from Ace. He’s more used to plain old cigs but the sweet cigar isn’t half bad. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed having a mate to smoke with.
A mate? Sounds weird applied to any version of Rimmer but he doesn’t know what else to call this friendly, charming, heroic- Whoa, hold on there. He’ll be fainting like Holly next.
Ace tries not to gawk at Skipper’s lips as they wrap smoothly around the cheroot with each casual but appreciative puff. Even though every Lister he’s met to date has given the impression of enjoying his bread buttered on both sides, that doesn’t mean they’re always up for it. Sometimes there’s a Kristine Kochanski on the scene, for a start.
“You know, in my dimension there’s another version of you. Splendid chap.”
“Really? You two’re mates?”
“Best of chums, old fruit. He’s a Space Corps engineer. A damn talented one too.”
Skipper perks up and begins asking questions. The revelation that Spanners is married to Ace’s version of Kochanski and has twin sons quietens him momentarily. He moves on to asking about the alternate versions of his crewmates, then to Ace’s mission.
“In a nutshell, exploration. I can’t go back, so always moving forwards.”
“Sounds fun. But don’t you miss the people in your dimension?”
“‘Course I do, old chum, but I knew what I was signing up for.” Ace takes one last pull on his cigar before stubbing it out.
“So you only had mates and co-workers to leave behind? No family, partner?” Skipper seems to realise what he’s asked right after the words leave his mouth. “Um, just wondered…”
“You could say that.” Ace grimaces. “My family aren’t in the picture these days. My choice.”
“Hey, you do have something in common with Rimmer then.” Skipper grins in a way which reminds Ace so much of Spanners that it almost hurts. “Was startin’ to wonder.”
They share a warm chuckle, followed by a companionable silence.
Lister takes a final drag on the cheroot as he tries to get up the nerve to say it. Glancing up, his eyes meet Ace’s. Lister’s been around long enough to recognise that look.
“Um, I know you’ve got a bad arm, but if you’re interested-”
“Yes.” The single word in Ace’s clipped military tones sounds odd, given the strength of feeling packed into it. The Commander suddenly sounds - not desperate, but definitely urgent.
“How’d you know what I was gonna say?” Lister breathes as he finally allows his eyes to roam freely over that long-limbed, tightly bacofoil-clad body.
“Let’s just say it comes up a lot.” Ace winks, underlining the innuendo. Lister can’t suppress a smirk.
He leads Ace to the nearest lift, racking his brains to remember which floors have the roomiest bedrooms. Couples’ quarters, that’s it. He punches the relevant numbers into the control panel with trembling fingers and tries not to think too much about anything except the man before him.
Everything about Ace seems to be golden, from the long sweeping hair to that clingy gold leather flight suit. Even the watch he wears. He’s so perfect it’s almost unreal.
Good thing it’s a short journey, because what they’re about to do is hitting him. He can’t relax yet because they’re still technically in public. Unlikely though it is, Lister doesn’t fancy running into - well, the Skutters. Or R-
His inner monologue is mercifully cut short as the lift halts and the pair emerge onto one of the more spacious upper floors and head straight to the closest quarters. Lister turns to lock the door behind them, only to find Ace has beaten him to it.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Ace jokes. “But I’m not really into being walked in on.”
Lister laughs nervously. “Yeah, me neither.”
They move closer. A few more awkward minutes pass in silence as they eye each other, then Lister leans up for a kiss.
Ace grips him with gentle firmness as their lips meet. Of course he’s a great kisser. Lister wouldn’t have expected anything less. How is he a version of-?
Ace loses himself in Skipper’s tantalisingly pretty face, full lips soft against his as they kiss and embrace. This doesn’t happen anywhere near often enough for his liking and he intends to savour every moment.
Everything about Skipper is perfect. The dark eyes which meet his fearlessly, the adorable cleft chin, the way those black leathers fit his compact but deceptively strong frame.
They kiss long and hungrily, hands exploring each other’s bodies. They edge slowly backwards towards the double bed in the centre of the room, eventually sinking down onto it side by side. Their touches steadily increase in urgency.
Breath hitching as Skipper’s hand ventures to his groin, Ace moves his own fingers until he reaches the man’s erection, which is as impressively large as he remembers. They fondle each other to the sounds of short sharp gasps and heavy breaths.
“Reckon you’re … a bit … overdressed,” Skipper forces out.
Ace can only agree. He takes off his warm jacket, revealing his equally cosy white polo-neck. What’s suitable for missions is a lot less so for what usually follows them, one way or another.
Skipper watches appreciatively as the sweater hits the floor too. Not for the first time, Ace thanks all the time he’s spent sweating in the gym. Worth it for the look he gets at this moment.
Then it’s his turn to drink in the view as Skipper’s leather waistcoat, black shirt and white T-shirt come off in a way too impatient to qualify as a striptease, but that’s more than fine. A Dave Lister eagerly undressing for him is always a treat.
And just like that, he’s fully hard. It had been building up, but the sight of Skipper topless has his cock straining against the trousers he still wears.
Predictably, Skipper notices the visible bulge and rubs it with a lusty grin. “Who made these keks? Tightest things I’ve ever seen. Not complainin’!”
“Don’t know,” Ace breathes, biting back a moan as he pushes himself against Skipper’s skilful fingers. “Yours…” He mentally scolds himself at how quickly the old brain’s turning to mush. “... not half bad either.”
“Thanks.” Skipper moves his free hand round and strokes Ace’s arse in tandem with his caresses of his cock through the shiny gold fabric. The combined motions make him groan deeply. Skipper looks both startled and aroused.
Not that he hadn’t been expecting noises. That’s what happens in the sack. It’s the tone of those groans which is getting him. Desperate? In the region of desperate, at least.
Lister’s own cock is demanding to be freed. Reluctantly, he lets go of Ace and starts unzipping his leathers. Cool though they are, they’re a pain at times like these.
Times like these? His solo jerk-offs pale in comparison. Ace is looking at his body as he strips in a way he hasn’t enjoyed for a very long time. He manages to slow himself down a bit just to savour it before casting his trousers to the carpet. His boxers swiftly follow.
His newly exposed cock hardens even more at the way Ace looks at it. Being wanted this badly by someone like him…
“Skipper, can you lie down and let me take care of you?” Ace jabs a thumb back towards the bed.
Lister hesitates for a second, unsure exactly what he’s implying, then decides he doesn’t care. He complies excitedly.
Bare-chested but still clothed from the waist down, Ace kneels over him and answers his unspoken question as he begins to kiss and lick at his erection.
Lister writhes in delight. To say Ace knows what he’s doing is an understatement. He abandons any lingering attempt at seeming cool and groans unashamedly.
He gets louder as Ace takes him partially into his mouth, teasing him. He clutches at the bedsheets. “Oh smeg, yes!”
He wonders - with the sliver of brainpower he currently has - if Ace will take him all the way down. Not everyone can.
“Aaahhh!!!” He stops thinking as his cock disappears fully down Ace’s throat. It feels incredible.
Ace pleasures him expertly, only pulling off when his groans become overwhelming. “Sorry Skipper, but we don’t want you jumping the gun, do we?” He grins fondly at Lister, who nods dazedly.
He sits up determinedly, ignoring the slight dizziness he feels. “My turn.”
“Are you sure, old chum? Don’t want you keeling over.”
“I’m fine,” Lister insists, and it’s more or less true. He is coming back to himself. “I’ll take it slow.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ace finally peels off those second skin trousers. He’s completely naked beneath.
Lister giggles. “Is that Space Corps policy? Going commando?”
“Executive decision, old chum. Comfier this way.” Kicking off his boots, Ace lies down on the bed and spreads those long legs invitingly.
Lister leans over him, getting into position, and then settles into a rhythm. It may be a long time since he’s done this but it turns out it’s like riding a bike. He hasn’t forgotten.
Ace lies back and enjoys the relatively rare sensation of being pleasured himself. With all the condiment consumption he does, a lot of his partners are too wiped out to attend to him afterwards. Not that it’s a problem doing that himself at all, but it’s nice when someone else does.
Especially Skipper. Why is every Lister he’s had the good fortune to share a bed with in possession of the kind of oral skills which would make a monk or nun jack in their calling immediately?
Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, he answers himself as he starts to gasp and groan. The sight of that beautiful mouth on his cock is one he wishes he could record for posterity.
Ace also doesn’t know why every Lister he sleeps with treats giving a blowjob as if they’re going for a gold medal at the Olympics in cocksucking, but he respects this attitude highly.
He concentrates on lasting as long as he possibly can, luxuriating in the sensations, both physical and emotional. He has no idea how much time has passed when Skipper pulls off.
“God Ace, what’s a bloke gotta do to get you to come?” Skipper jokes, flipping his locks back over his shoulder in a way Ace finds remarkably fetching.
“Nothing personal, old love. Just a point of principle for me. I don’t leave my partners behind.” He sits up and smiles. Skipper doesn’t need to know how much effort it’s taking.
“Oh, c’mon. Lemme bring you off. I want to. Pretty smegging sure you want it too.”
Eyes so dark with desire that they’re almost black stare Ace down.
Ace is so horny right now that he can barely think. “Well … if you insist … old love…”
He sinks back to the pillows and surrenders happily.
Ace regains his senses to the sight of Skipper stroking his own erection and looking very pleased with himself.
“Hey, I made you shout. Didn’t expect that.”
Ace shrugs breathlessly. “Sometimes … a chap’s gotta … let it out.” He gazes blissfully at the man before him but as his high recedes a little, his conscience kicks back in.
He sits up unsteadily. “My turn, old chum. Only fair.”
Skipper eagerly swaps places with him and Ace feasts his eyes on the sight of him writhing and moaning as Ace teases him and then takes his cock fully down again. It doesn’t take long until the man stiffens, shudders and comes hard. A moment Ace doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of.
Ace rises from the bed, fetches his cigar case and offers one to Skipper, who accepts it even though he’s barely stopped panting.
“Smeg, I need it. That was amazing.”
Ace flicks his fringe back and grins. “That’s a ditto, Skipper. You’re a tiger in the old sack and no mistake.”
They smile at each other, then pull languidly on the cheroots and bask in their mutual afterglow.
Both are determined not to think beyond this moment.