waqaychay (waqaychay) wrote,
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Jeeves in Reverse, Fic rated NC-17

Jeeves and Wooster in Love, Part 7

Title: Jeeves in Reverse
Author: waqaychay
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jeeves takes a turn, and Bertie plants a flag.
Disclaimer: Bertie and Jeeves belong to P.G. Wodehouse and not me. No offense meant to him, Hugh Laurie, or Stephen Fry.
A/N: Thank you once again to my lovely beta crowson75. I'd be lost without her. This is the last in the series, guys. It's been so much fun writing this, and I love these boys so very much. This is far from the last one I'll write, but I think the next might be a bit of a monster, so it may take a while. Of course, I'm sure there will be a few one-shot smutlets along the way. ;) The other parts can be found here or here.

And as a special treat, jackpy was an absolute darling and drew this to go with the fic. (NSFW) He calls it crappy, but I love it. Please do tell him how much you agree with me. :)



They say that Paris is a city for lovers, and this is undoubtedly true. Pick any Rue de Something or Other to walk down, and one will see hundreds of couples pitching woo at each other with wild abandon. In fact, a chappie can hardly walk down a street without getting hit in the beak with excess woo. It's something in the air, I think. Or perhaps the water. Whatever it is, it made Jeeves and I feel right at home.

"Jeeves," I said as I lay on my back in our rented bed with only a sheet up to my waist and Jeeves's sweat to cover my nudity. I looked up at my man, who was on his side next to me, as naked as the young Wooster sans sheet, with one hand propping up his bean and the other idly playing with a half-smoked cigarette.

"Sir?"

I ran a hand down his massive chest and curled it around his hip. "Are you sure we really have to leave Paris?"

Jeeves chuckled a bit, a sound I was growing to love dearly, and looked past the Wooster frame and out the opened French doors. I had a feeling he was eyeing the Eiffel Tower again in the light of the setting sun. We had a dashed good view of the city from our hotel room, and I had caught his eyes lingering on the structure several times. I had insisted on opening the balcony doors so that he could observe it from our bed. Something about the metal spire seemed to call to my man. "Not for many days yet, sir. Our stay here has only just begun."

"Well, that's a relief. I quite like it here, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. I am enjoying France immensely." He smirked slightly and I blushed, knowing full well that, in the two days we had been in the country, we had done nothing but test the mattress in our hotel room and sample the fine French cuisine that room service had to offer.

I rolled into Jeeves a bit more and moved the hand on his hip to pluck the neglected cigarette from his fingers. I took a puff, then held the c. to Jeeves's lips so he could do the same. We smiled at each other, content in our soppy afterwhatsit.

Now free, Jeeves's hand began to stroke my neck and down my chest, tweaking a nipple when the mood struck. Luckily, it struck often. It felt dashed pleasant, and we stayed like that, stroking each other and passing the gasper back and forth until it was mostly ash. I stubbed out the remainder in the ashtray on the bedside table and returned my hand to my man's hip, rubbing the incredibly soft skin there.

As I meditatively fondled my husband, I reviewed the last two days in my mind. I had been in frenzied state when we reached our room, as disembarking from the ship and travelling to the hotel had taken far too long for my liking. My hands had been itching to once again acquaint themselves with Jeeves's pale skin. Now that they knew the feel of his body, my hands seemed addicted. More than a couple of hours without touching the bare expanse of his belly and they got the shakes. As soon as the door had shut behind us, I had knocked him over onto the bed, where we had stayed until my hands were sated. It had taken quite a while.

That night, Jeeves had been inside me for the second time, and it had been even better than the first, if such a thing were possible. Perhaps it was the Parisian air, perhaps it was the water, but with Bertram's legs around Jeeves's waist and his prick thick and hard inside me, [the snail was on the thorn and the lark was singing and all was right with the world], as the fellow said. I had felt oojah-cum-spiff, I mean, and the woo had been everywhere.

This day, our second in Paris, had been spent much like the first. We had come up for air only for food, drink, sleep, and a much needed bath. And after the splash about, Jeeves had rogered me again quite thoroughly and energetically against the wall. Hours later, I was still feeling the imprint of the bathroom's fine French tiles in my back. Afterward, Jeeves had been the very picture of a devoted husband, carrying me tenderly to our bed and fussing over the exhausted Wooster carcass until my moaning and twitching had subsided. Which brings us to the present and the pleasant feel of fingers on cooling skin.

I looked down to find that my reminiscing had brought the little Wooster to attention once more, which was awfully surprising. I had thought him done in for the night, but it seemed he had one last hurrah in him. Jeeves noticed the tent I was now making of the sheet, as well, and slid his hand down to cup me in his palm.

"Again, sir?" he asked with a twitch of his lips that meant he was amused.

"Do you think you can manage it, Jeeves?"

"I shall endeavour to do my best, sir."

Leaning down, Jeeves kissed me thoroughly and even the ashy taste on our tongues from the cigarette couldn't put a damper on the heat growing between us. The hands wandered and the blood rose, if you understand me.

"Bertie," Jeeves said between nibbles to my lower lip. He pulled the sheet from between us and lay half atop me. I could feel his hardness dig into my thigh.

"Yes?" I gasped out as I let the fingers of one hand run freely through Jeeves's glossy hair and sent the fingers of the other to get friendly with the man's bottom.

"Shall I take you again?" His own fingers dipped between us to delve between my legs. I gasped as they found sore, slightly sticky skin.

"Oh, erm. I don't think so, old thing. I think I need a bit of time before we try that again. You were very... enthusiastic the last time."

Jeeves's fingers immediately withdrew. "I am sorry if I hurt you, sir," he began in a stricken voice, but I cut him off.

"No need to apologize, Jeeves. I rather enjoyed myself at the time. Nearly exploded with enjoyment, in fact, as you well know. But the aftermath has left me a little... tender."

Jeeves placed soft kisses to my sternum and rolled my plums in his hand. "How shall I attend to you, then, sir? With the touch of my hand? The embrace of my mouth? I do love to have you in my mouth, sir." The truth was that I rather enjoyed that act, as well. Jeeves has many talents, not the least of which is that trick he does with his throat when he has me all the way.... Well, I say. Jeeves is quite talented. Let's leave it at that.

I moaned as Jeeves found a nipple to suck. My hands clutched involuntarily at his person, and the fingers of the hand on his bottom went farther inward than I have ever dared to send them before. It rather gave me an idea.

"I say, Jeeves," I said between breaths that were beginning to sound an awful lot like a bellows heaving.

"Sir?" he said around my nipple.

"Erm, you know that lad you took up with when you were young? The one that wasn't Bertram Wooster?"

Jeeves stopped sucking and sat up, looking at the young husband with a wary look. "Yes, sir?"

Suddenly nervous under Jeeves's suspicious eyes, I didn't quite know what to do with my hands. They fluttered around until Jeeves took pity on me and caught them in his own strong grasp. He gave them a squeeze and said quietly, "What about him, sir?"

"Oh. Ah, did he ever...? I mean, old thing, did you ever let him... well, you know? I only ask because, well, it seems that my anatomy is out for the count at the moment and yours is in as fine a form as ever. Which is especially fine, Jeeves, have I mentioned that? Your form, I mean. Your physique is absolutely topping. I'm particularly fond of your neck, the bit where it becomes your shoulder. Very nice slope, you know. Not to mention the supple curve of your bu--"

"Sir," Jeeves cut off my babbling. "Are you asking me whether or not I have ever been penetrated?"

How the man said it without a trace of a blush, I'll never know. My own map felt like I'd just spent two weeks on a sunny beach in Brighton with no hat. "Oh. I suppose I am."

"Then the answer is no, I never have been. I never felt comfortable enough with the young man to allow it, though he requested it of me often."

"Issued a nolle prosequi, eh, Jeeves?"

"As you say, sir."

The information caused mixed feelings in me. On one hand, I was bally relieved that there were areas of Jeeves heretofore unexplored by hands other than my own. Virgin territory, as it were. It made me feel as if I could lay claim to that untouched piece of him and call it my own. Sort of stick a metaphorical Wooster flag on his bottom, if you see what I mean.

On the other hand, if Jeeves had issued a nolle prosequi to the young blighter that had gotten there before B. W. Wooster, then what was stopping him from issuing the same to Bertram? The thought of Jeeves keeping that virgin land, well, virgin for the rest of our lives made my stomach flutter unpleasantly.

On another hand, Jeeves had said he had been too uncomfortable with the young blister to let him stake a claim. Was there anyone he was more comfortable with than his husband? Surely, he had not offered to marry that young weasel-faced pill he had first lain with. Well, I say weasel-faced. The truth is that I had no information as to the degree of weaselness of his visage, but the more I thought of it, the more sure I became that the damned bounder must have had a face like vermin.

On the other hand....

I suddenly realized I had too many hands and decided just to ask Jeeves instead of overtaxing the mind.

"Jeeves, er, does that nolle prosequi still stand? I mean, is your territory to remain flag-free forevermore?"

Jeeves looked at me strangely, as if he had sudden doubts as to my sanity. Then, a sort of light came on in his eyes and a small smile graced his luscious lips. "No, sir. My previous refusal is not an indication of an aversion to being penetrated. I simply did not love the young man and felt that that particular act should be reserved for someone I did love. And I do love you, sir."

I gaped at him, a feeling of something warm and fuzzy rising in my chest. "Do you mean, Jeeves...?"

He smiled slightly wider and squeezed my hands once more. "Yes, sir. If you have a flag you wish to plant, you may do so. I am yours -- heart, soul, and body. There is no form of intimacy that I would deny you. In fact, I think I would rather enjoy experiencing our lovemaking from the submissive position."

I laughed heartily, joy now bubbling up in the chest like champagne. "Jeeves!" I cried. "I can't imagine you ever being submissive, old thing." But I could. Oh, I could. The little Wooster twitched in eagerness.

Jeeves smiled slightly. "Perhaps not, sir. I merely meant that I would gladly take the reverse position this time. In truth, I have often dreamt of you making love to me in such a way."

"You have?" I must say it was a bit of a shock to learn that this paragon of men had been indulging in bouts of nocturnal nookie with the young master. I mean to say, I've had my own naughty dreams starring my former valet, of course. (The most vivid one involved said valet, sans clothing, lounging on my bed with a bottle of merlot and, strangely enough, a square bit of yellow cheese. I put the wine to good use, drinking it from his navel, but I don't remember now what we did with the cheese. We ate it, I suppose, it being cheese and all.) But to learn that Jeeves had been ensconced in his little bed, dreaming of the Wooster form performing erotic and scandalous acts upon his person, bedclothes most likely rising over the hardness at his groin.... I shuddered and groaned.

I pulled Jeeves back down to me and kissed him thoroughly before rolling until his body was under my own. With our groins once again aligned, I began to move against him slowly, rubbing our erections together gently. As I nibbled at his throat, I pondered. How best to make my husband mine? Should I have him like this, on his back and with his legs around my waist? That had felt dashed good when it had been Bertram on his back. Or should I take him from behind, as he had taken my own virginity? Knowing Jeeves, he had chosen that position for a reason. The experience had been an exceptionally easy and pleasant one. However, I really enjoyed being able to kiss my man, which face-to-face loving allowed. I found myself simply unable to decide.

"Darling," I mumbled around a mouthful of Jeeves's heavenly-scented skin. "How should I...?"

"Like this," Jeeves gasped and lifted his magnificent thighs until they surrounded my waist. I moaned into his neck and thrust against him harder than I intended to. "Ah, yes, Bertie!" he cried and clutched at my shoulders. To this day, I maintain that you have never really lived unless you have had Jeeves under you, clutching at your shoulders and moaning your name. I pity all the chaps who aren't me, for they will never know that exquisite joy.

A small adjustment on my part had my arousal stroking across my man's lightly hairy eggs. I pushed up onto my hands and stared down at my love as I drew my hips back even further until that hardest part of my anatomy slipped even lower and rubbed against the cleft of my love's firm buttocks. Jeeves's eyes went dark with a fierce pash, and he clung to me all the tighter.

"Bertie, the oil," he gasped as his hips began to move minutely in time with my own. That felt so bally wonderful, I nearly said "Sod the oil! Let's have more of this rubbing business, what?" But then I remembered the flag that needed planting.

"Right-ho. Oil." I tore my gaze from my writhing spouse and quickly scanned our room for the little vial Jeeves had first produced two days ago. It was nowhere to be seen. I fairly growled in frustration, the noise turning into a groan when Jeeves raised his head to nibble my collarbone. "Good Lord," I said. "I can't think when you do that."

"Good," Jeeves said into my skin and rolled us once more until I was helpless underneath my man's onslaught.

And what an onslaught it was! Jeeves kissed me thoroughly until I was dazed and panting under his mouth, then moved that jolly talented m. downwards, covering every inch of my trembling flesh with tender yet passionate adoration. When he reached my straining groin, he took me briefly inside to suck and lick at my hardened flesh, but released me before I could clutch at his glossy hair and beg for my release. He moved upwards again, revisiting all the places that had enjoyed his touch the most on his first trip, and when we were once again flushed face to flushed face, he was smiling a soft smile and holding the elusive vial in his hand.

"Allow me, sir," the devil said with a saucy wink and poured some of the contents in my lap. With one broad, capable hand, he spread the oil around, coating not only my prick but also applying a liberal amount to the orbs below. He even went so far as to slip a slick finger lower and inside my well-used orifice, which was not wholly unwelcome.

With one of Jeeves's hands stroking me in a slick and urgent rhythm and the other moving a digit within me in counterpoint, I thought I would go quite mad with lust if I didn't have my man soon. With a groan, I sat up and knocked my love over onto his back, dislodging his hands from my person. Jeeves would tell you here that my groan was really "a beautifully erotic growl of desire and possession". This may be true. I do not know. All the Wooster brain was processing at the time was my absolute need to be inside Jeeves's magnificent body.

I crawled up the body of my prone manservant-cum-husband, licking upward from the knees and paying special attention to the thick shaft resting against his belly. I laved it with my tongue until Jeeves was panting with lust, then continued upwards until I could once again attach my lips to his. With my tongue in his mouth, I urged this thighs apart and slid between them, letting my oiled manhood slide against his own erect flesh. Jeeves pulled his lips from own and threw his head back, gasping, "Sir! Please!" I don't believe I had ever heard Jeeves beg before that moment. I nearly lost myself against his belly, but I clenched my teeth and fought back the wave of ecstasy. Jeeves pulled his knees toward his chest, opening himself beneath me, and panted, "Prepare me, sir, please. I don't think I can wait much longer."

I was in complete agreement. I rose to my knees and gazed down at Jeeves's exposed anatomy. My body throbbed with the sight, but a sudden thought hit me and cooled my ardour like a bucket of water over a roaring flame. Well, if the bucket was roughly the size of a thimble and the flame the size of, say, a rather energetic barn fire. I was still aroused and eager for my man, I mean, but there was a slight reduction in the lustful haze that clouded the Wooster onion. I had suddenly remembered how Jeeves had prepared me before my own deflowerment, if I may use the term. Specifically, I remembered where he had put his mouth. Was he expecting me to do the same? I must admit it had felt jolly good at the time, but the idea of reciprocating made my mouth go dry and my stomach turn ever so slightly.

"Erm, Jeeves."

"Sir?" Jeeves had noticed my reduced lust and was regarding me with an inquisitively raised eyebrow.

"I say, am I supposed to...? I mean, old thing, are you expecting me to, well, give you a bit of the old mouth joy down below, as it were? I know you're dashed good at that sort of thing. My appreciation of your technique was quite, well, liquid, but I'm not sure it's my cup of tea. I don't want to disappoint you, darling, but--"

"Bertie," Jeeves cut off my nervous babble. He sat up and ran all ten fingers through my hair, cradling the base of my skull as he kissed me tenderly. I was feeling more serene when he pulled away. "I am not asking for anything you are not willing to give," he told me quietly. "If you do not wish to do that, then I do not wish for it, either."

"Thank you, love."

Jeeves touched our lips together once more, then resumed his previous position. With his knees to his chest and his hands over his head, he was completely open. I took in his glistening erection, throbbing with every beat of his heart, and the full plums nestled below in a patch of smooth dark hair. Below those, I could see the place where we would soon be joined. It seemed very small, and I hesitated. Jeeves looked up at me with pleading eyes. "Now, sir, please make love to me."

Well, I say. How could one resist such a request?

I poured some oil over my fingers and sent the slippery digits between my husband's legs. I felt soft, puckered skin and gulped. Truthfully, I was still a bit nervous about our upcoming lovemaking. Remembering now how well Jeeves had made love to me, I felt unequal to the task. What if I bungled the whole thing and Jeeves hated it? What if he never let me near his nether regions again? My hand trembled as I pushed one finger inside.

Jeeves let out a moan, and his body, hot and moist and wonderful, clenched around my finger. "Bertie, yes," he sighed.

I shoved the digit deeper. "Is that all right, Jeeves?"

Nodding, Jeeves shut his eyes and rolled his hips, taking me even farther inside his body. "That feels...." Jeeves trailed off with a hum of pleasure, and I took that as a good sign.

I moved the finger in and out in a parody of the motions I remembered Jeeves using on me. When the muscles surrounding me felt looser, I asked, "Another?"

Jeeves hissed an affirmative, and I slipped my middle finger in with the index. Jeeves's head thrashed on the bed and his hips rose to meet the motion of my hand. My prick drooled rather rudely onto the bed sheets. His own leaked steadily onto his stomach, making my mouth water. It was a small eternity before I felt the constricting muscles loosen once more.

"Another?" I barely recognized my voice. It had turned into a husky, gravel-filled mockery of my usual jovial tenor. Jeeves seemed not to mind, only nodded his head fractionally and bit his lower lip in an uncharacteristic show of deep emotion. My ring finger joined the others in my lover's depths.

Three seemed to be a bit much for Jeeves, for his face went a darker shade of red and his brow creased in intense concentration. I barely moved my hand, giving him time to adjust. "Bertie," he moaned and shifted his hips minutely. "Please, move your fingers. Upward, just a little." I complied and felt a hard nub of something or other brush my skin. Jeeves jolted underneath me, crying out in bliss, "Yes! There!" I remembered the place inside myself that caused fireworks behind my eyes and smiled, rubbing that same place in Jeeves again and again. Soon, his cries were nearly incoherent and he was pulling on my shoulders, encouraging me to cover his body with my own. "Now, sir, now!"

A strange thing happened to the Wooster brain at that point. The utter vision of Jeeves below me, flushed, sweaty and begging me to take him, caused something to snap and any self-control I had left went the way of the dodo and the doornail. I grabbed Jeeves under one knee and forced his leg outward, opening him to me even more so that I could fit my hips to his. Holding him thus with one hand, I used the other to guide the tip of my prick until it was resting against his slick skin. With a thrust, I pushed an inch or so inside.

It would be impossible to describe in mere words the sublime feeling of being one with my man in such a way, but I'll give it a go. The first sensation that hit me was one of incredible heat. Jeeves was a furnace around me, burning me in the most delish way. Next, I felt the pressure of his muscles squeezing around me in the most blissful agony I had ever felt. The combination of the two was almost enough to finish me then and there.

"Jeeves," I whimpered in a most unmanly way. Jeeves's hands closed firmly on my shoulders and clung there as the man came to terms with my invasion. His face had taken on a pinched look, but that soon faded into something resembling worry, or perhaps pensiveness. Come to think of it, it could have been constipation. Whatever it was, it slowly became Jeeves's usual mid-lovemaking look of wonder. As I watched and held my hips back from slamming home with a force neither of us was quite ready for, Jeeves's beautiful eyes opened and he gazed up at me. He attempted to speak, but no words came from his swollen and red lips. "All right?" I gasped. My body twitched, eager to continue its slide into heaven.

Releasing his grip on the Wooster shoulders, Jeeves instead placed those hands behind my back, urging me closer to his body. "Yes, Bertie," he moaned as I slid farther into him. I fell forward onto my free hand, planting said h. beside my lover's head, and pushed until I could go no deeper. "Oh, yes!" Jeeves cried more enthusiastically. I felt his short nails skate along my spine.

I had to take some calming breaths at that point, lest I lose myself before we got to the best part. When I felt I was no longer in danger of embarrassing myself at the first thrust, I drew my hips backward, pulling out a mere inch before thrusting forward again with great care. I knew what this felt like from the other side, of course, and was damned hard-pressed to say which was better.

I continued the shallow thrusts until I found my movements becoming easier and easier. I gave an experimental, proper thrust and nearly fell on my beloved as he jerked under me violently, almost unseating me. "Good heavens!" Jeeves cried, sounding so shocked and scandalized he could have been standing at the wardrobe, holding a just-discovered pair of puce trousers. His hands relocated themselves to my hips, where they clenched and released in time with his rapid breathing.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked frantically, worried he would call a halt to the proceedings before the logical conclusion.

"No! Bertie, do that again. Harder."

"Oh, bless you!" I cried and immediately followed his direction. It was a bit awkward, though, trying to make love with only one hand to hold me up, so I shrugged the leg I was still holding in the other hand onto my shoulder. Hoping that Jeeves could count flexibility amongst his many talents, I then took my weight on both hands, resting his solid thigh against my chest and leaning into its strength. With no encouragement on my part, Jeeves wrapped his other pin around my waist, and then we were cooking.

I gave Jeeves the best my back and thighs had to offer, building slowly up to a driving rhythm. I was careful to temper my thrusts with gentleness in deference to Jeeves's recent virginity, but soon my man was demanding that I take him harder, faster, deeper. The look on his face was one of ecstasy, but I felt the need to make sure everything was boomps-a-daisy with him. "Is it... good?" I asked between gulping breaths. "Jeeves.... Oh, love! Do you... like it?"

"Yes!" Jeeves replied immediately. "Oh, sir! I never knew. It's so.... It's so good! Please, faster now."

I 'right-ho'd and quickened the pace. It seemed Jeeves took to the submissive position as well as he took to anything. He moved against me easily, almost but not quite in time with my own hips. Broken cries of my name fell from his lips between directives, and sweat beaded his flushed and gorgeous chest. His body now accepted me completely. In fact, it welcomed me, pulling at me when I would withdraw as if not wanting to let me go. It drove me wild with lust, and I felt my end nearing.

"Jeeves," I cried. "Oh, Jeeves! I can't-- I'm going to--"

"Sir!" Jeeves yelled in reply and grabbed my person all the harder, tugging and pushing me into a rhythm that suited the one his own body followed. It threw me off, and I growled at him.

One by one, I captured his hands in my own and pinned them to the mattress beside his head. "No, love," I panted. "Like this. Like this." And I started the home stretch, picking up the pace and increasing the power of the thrusts. I slammed into Jeeves over and again, long, powerful strokes that made the room spin dizzily around me. Jeeves lay under me and took it, not even attempting to keep up with me, just tightening his long pins around me and letting me have my way with him. It was amazing, that. Jeeves giving up all control, I mean, and just letting me ravish him like that. It made the young Wooster feel not a little virile, powerful, and quite manly. "Love you, Jeeves," I ground out between clenched choppers. "My man. My man."

The climax built in the base of my spine, a warm tingle that moved throughout my whole body. My head dropped forward and my mouth fell open as my rhythm began to falter. I could feel the pleasure shooting through me, centring in my groin. I closed my eyes and as the best damned o. of my life crashed through me, I thrust hard into Jeeves, jerking against him in nearly senseless orgasmic spasms. My release burst from me in pleasure so intense it was almost pain, rushing out of me to fill Jeeves with my love.

As the pleasure began to recede, I became aware that Jeeves was attempting to wrest one hand from the tight grip of my fingers. I let it go immediately, fearing I had hurt him in the throes of passion. Rather than claim injury, though, Jeeves put his hand to good use on his own prick, stroking quickly with rough jerks of his fist. Feeling like an absolute heel for leaving my man behind, I shifted my weight to one shaking arm and wrapped my hand around his, helping to bring him to his release.

With only a few or our combined strokes, Jeeves climaxed. His body tightened almost unbearably around my slowly shrinking flesh, causing another jolt of pure pleasure to shoot through my frame. Jets of his sticky fluid covered our hands and spurted nearly to his throat. "Oh, God! Bertie!" he wailed as he twitched under me, riding out the waves of his own bliss.

At that point, I collapsed. Making love to Jeeves is rather exhausting, in a happy, sated, sticky kind of way, of course. I removed the leg from my shoulder and lay on Jeeves's chest, panting and sweating, until my anatomy shrank enough to slip away from my lover completely. "Oh," Jeeves said and wriggled under me.

With a kiss to his neck, I slid to Jeeves's side and threw a limb across his shoulders, hugging his damp form to my own. He wasted no time in taking me into his arms, and we lay like that for some time, quiet in the afterwhatsit. I had almost drifted off when Jeeves spoke.

"I love you, sir."

"Hmm, Jeeves?" I asked, blinking my heavy eyelids open once more.

"I only wished to express my love for you, Bertie."

I smiled and kissed my man on the tip of his handsomely crooked nose. "Love you, as well, Jeeves." I stroked Jeeves's cheek with one finger then wound my arm around his waist, heedless of the sticky nature of my love's torso. "Was it good, then? I so wanted to make it good for you, old fruit."

"Yes, sir. The experience was extremely gratifying."

"You would be amenable to allowing Bertram another go in the future, then?"

"As soon as I have sufficiently recovered from the last hour's activities, I shall insist on it."

Well, I say. The grin that caused on the Wooster map threatened to split the old bean in two. "Wonderful! The next time, Jeeves, I should like to have you from behind, if you've no objections."

Jeeves smiled. "None at all, sir."

We kissed then, Jeeves taking my tongue in to dance and play with his own. When the damned inconvenient need for air forced us apart, Jeeves shifted his weight on the bed and a small grimace appeared on his lovely map. "Sir...."

"All right, darling?"

"The... fluid, sir," Jeeves said with a moue of distaste. "I can feel it leaking from me."

"Ah," I said and waved an unconcerned hand. "Yes, it does that. Nothing a visit to the toilet and a hot bath won't cure. Shall I run you one, Jeeves?" Jeeves opened his mouth to protest. "Ah, ah, ah! I shall hear no argument. You undoubtedly will be sore as well as, erm, dripping. Since I am the one that made you that way, I shall be the one to rectify the sitch. I will draw your bath and tenderly wash your sticky places. And then, old thing, I will bring you back to our bed, cover you in a thousand kisses, and fall asleep on your chest. I may even repeat the procedure every night for the next fifty or sixty years. Excepting, of course, those nights when it is I who is the one pleasantly sore and needing a splash about. Is that agreeable to you?"

Jeeves smiled a small, amused smile. "Yes, sir," he said. "That sounds very pleasing, indeed."

And, as it happens, it was.
Tags: jooster, my fic
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