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The Logistics of Kama Sutra

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“I’ve never seen the appeal of recreating the Kama Sutra in zero-gee,” Rimmer groused, turning the book over in his hands with a distinct curl of the lip. “Surely attempting to manipulate yourselves with no traction would be putting the ‘mission’ back into ‘missionary’? You’d spend more time flailing than fucking.”

“Oh, stop being such a spoilsport,” Lister chastised as he snuggled up next to him in the sheets, leaving a lingering kiss on the man’s bare shoulder. “You said you were willin’ to try new things.”

“Yes, but I was envisaging something a little more sedate like food play or bondage,” Rimmer replied, petulant. “Not some rigorous activity where I risk pulling a muscle or have to apply trigonomics to ensure the angle’s right.”

“Yeah, but lovers have been studyin’ this book for hundreds of years.” Lister flicked open the book absently. “I mean, we could be missin’ out on some amazin’ new position, like - HOLY SMEG!”

“Good grief!” Rimmer cried, blinking rapidly. “That looks a little - ”

“Erm, advanced?”

“That’s one word for it, yes.”

Lister’s swallow was surprisingly audible. He gestured back weakly. “Maybe we need to start nearer the beginnin’, yeah?”


Turmeric-stained fingers flicked back through the pages until they pointed to a position of interest. “How about this one?” Lister prompted.

“Are you serious?” Rimmer spluttered. “I’m not going to be able to hold that position on a mattress!”

“Oh, come on!” Lister prodded with a whine. “I thought you said you could do the bridge?”

“Well, yes, when I was nine! In Gymnastics Club,” Rimmer protested. He regarded the diagram warily. “I’m not that flexible anymore.”

With a sigh of disappointment, Lister turned over a few pages. “How ‘bout this one, then?”

“If I bent you in half like that, I’d end up getting the second wind of whatever curried concoction you ate for lunch.” Cavernous nostrils flared in disgust. “Rather the wrong kind of karma.”

“Smeg off,” Lister grinned, treating the man to a sharp smack.

The pair turned the page together before balking in unison, as if Synchronised Shock had become their latest sport of choice.

“What the - ?!”

“Woah! Okay — ”

The hologram tilted the book to one side, studying the diagram from a different angle. “I’m not even sure I understand the logistics of this one. I’m surprised they could pull it off.”

Lister winced, rubbing sympathically at his cock. “Sustainin’ that angle, they probably did.”

With a shudder, Rimmer turned the page once again before brightening slightly. “This one doesn’t look too bad.”

The Scouser’s nose wrinkled, sending his cheeks bunching up in a hamster-like expression. “I’m not sure if me back would be up to that one, y’know.” Casting a mischievous sideways glance, he slowly sidled up to the man. “Mind you, it would be way easier if we were in zero - ”


“Owwwwh!” Lister flicked over the pages sharply to make his displeasure known. However, he soon lit up as he spotted a strong contender. “This one looks pretty nice.”

“I admire your optimism,” Rimmer humoured with a tilt of the head. “But getting into that one is going to be a right bugger.”

“Well generally, that’s the idea,” Lister purred in the soft folds of the man’s ear, eliciting a shudder.

“Hmm. Touché,” he smarmed back; a cheeky peck soon multiplying then deepening into a heated kiss.

Sinking down into the sheets, the pair of naked bodies writhed against one another, their kiss only breaking for inelegantly-snatched glances at the book in assessment.

“Okay,” Lister panted, breathless, as they clumsily attempted to recreate the effortless-looking position. “Draw up your leg a bit more.” He moaned his disapproval into the man’s lips. “No! Your other leg!”

Rimmer drew back with an affronted pluck. “I can’t move my other leg!”

“Quick, before I lose me smeggin’ balance! Rotate this one outwards!” Lister instructed, patting the man’s thigh in indication. “No, outwards! Out - y’know, for a supposed Navigation expert, you have no smeggin’ sense of direction whatsoever.”

Rimmer’s teeth ground audibly. “I thought sex was supposed to be fun,” he grumbled. “REMEMBER WHEN SEX WAS FUN?!”

“Oh, forget it,” Lister grimaced, sinking back down onto the sheets. He massaged a healing hand across his tummy. “I think I’m gettin’ cramp in me stomach anyway.”

“Probably Bangalore Belly,” Rimmer sulked. “At least one of us achieved something vaguely Indian in bed.”