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Fic: Jeeves and the Unmasked Balls

Jeeves and the Unmasked Balls

Authors: storyfan and waqaychay
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Bertie takes Jeeves to the Drones' Halloween Masked Ball, but Bertie ends up the one taken.
Warnings: Cross-dressing
Disclaimer: Alas, Bertie and Jeeves do not belong to us but to Wodehouse.
A/N: It was an absolute pleasure writing with storyfan and I am very grateful that I was asked to join in on this fic. Though the shaving and the fruity bits are mine, all the rest belongs to storyfan, who has a wonderfully brilliant brain. :D The story can also be found at storyfan's personal journal here. We would also like to thank crowson75 and chaoticchaos13 for betaing for us. ♥ to you both.

“Now, let’s review the facts, shall we, Jeeves?” I said, propping my pillows against the headboard and sitting against them. “I will play the role of Sir Watkyn Bassett and you will be the guilty party.”

Jeeves puffed his gasper, then placed it on the ashtray positioned conveniently on the bedside table. He exhaled and turned to me, his eyebrows raised a fraction of a jot. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but I did since I knew the man, both personally and biblically, if you see what I mean.

“Let us hear your facts, sir, so that I may refute them one by one.”

“You have no defence, Jeeves, none at all. You are an expert at concealing your identity. You have worn more disguises than a career criminal. You have been a Scotland Yard investigator, an American novelist -- female, I might add -- a solicitor, which required no costume but still counts....”

“Sir, if I might respond....”

“You might, but you won’t. Because you can’t. I've told nothing but the truth so help me God, as they say in the American courts, and anything you say against it will be a lie, Jeeves.”

I had him. Since deepening our relationship to include feelings of the love-struck nature, Jeeves has never lied to me, except for when he was impersonating someone else. And even then it really couldn't be considered lying, simply because he was in character. Actors pull this sort of wheeze all the time and we pay to see them do it. Tell lies, I mean to say. So, really, Jeeves had no defence.

“All I want you to do is accompany me to the Drones’ Halloween Masked Ball, Jeeves. I ask so little from you, and I cannot see for the life of me why you won’t do this one insignificant thing, since you are so dashed good at it.”

“Sir, may I remind you that the ball is for members of Drones and their guests? Not valets.”

“You may remind me to brush my teeth, to wash behind my ears, or to leave town because Aunt Agatha is on her way. You may not remind me of Drones protocol. Besides,” I said, sure of victory, “I can bring a guest. There’s nothing in the rules that says my guest cannot also be my valet.”

Jeeves rolled on his side facing me, his palm supporting his magnificent cranium. “You do understand the risk of being discovered, do you not, sir?”

“I do, my dear Jeeves, but it won’t happen.”

“How can you be so certain, sir?”

“For heaven’s sake, Jeeves, we’ll be wearing masks! It’s a masked ball.”

“And how do you propose getting past the front door without announcing us, sir? Surely, everyone will be on the lookout for interlopers.”

“That’s the beauty of it, Jeeves,” I said. “We each have tickets that say 'Drone and guest.' We merely hand off the ticket and we’re in. That way, no one knows who anyone is. Barmy thought up the idea, if you can credit it. So everything’s covered.”

“Not everything, sir.” Jeeves pulled the blankets away from my lap and ran his forefinger down the naked length of my little Wooster, making me jump in surprise. “And what, sir, are you planning to wear to the ball? And,” he said, bending low and breathing his warm breath over my now-erect parts, “More to the point, what will I be wearing?”

“Jeeves,” I said, panting now. “I will be Cinderella and you, of course, will be Prince Charming.”

Jeeves licked me from stem to stern and I moaned in delicious agony. Suddenly, the Halloween Masked Ball didn't seem so important -- oh, not at all -- especially when Jeeves ran his tongue back and forth just... there... and then tried to swallow me whole. Well, not whole, if you see what I mean, but of course you can't see because you weren't there at the time, and thank goodness for that.

After a few moments, Jeeves, blast it, pulled my prick out of his mouth and simply stared at me. I opened my eyes in disbelief.

“Jeeves, my love,” I said, breathing like a winded horse, “is there a problem? Because if there isn't, I’d love for you to get back to the business at hand.”

Jeeves licked the fluid leaking from the tip of me. “Not a problem precisely, sir.”

“Then what is it, man? And please do that again.”

He did it again. “You realize you'll have to shave your chest, sir, and your legs? For the ball?”

To wait until I was in such a demented state of mind just wasn’t cricket, but I couldn’t be bothered to complain about unsportsmanlike conduct at a time like this. “Yes, yes, or course, my chest,” I said, and thrust my cock toward his lips. “And I’ll shave my bally legs, too, if that's what you want.”

“All the way up, sir?”

“Everything from toes to neck, if you’ll just open your mouth.”

And he did.

There was one difficulty, however, but it didn’t take the Wooster onion much time to discover the solution. While Jeeves’s costume was easy enough to locate, it took some doing to find a Cinderella ensemble that would fit the Wooster frame. I am admittedly not the biggest of chaps, but I do have shoulders wide enough for Jeeves to throw his legs over when the mood strikes him. Most ladies do not possess such shoulders. Well, perhaps Honoria Glossop does, but we won’t go exploring in that wilderness. That way madness lies, as the chap said. The point is that Cinderella costumes, I discovered, were made for a more modest musculature.

The only sensible thing to do, I decided, was to take my measurements, then hire a dressmaker to make the costume to my exact specifications. I knew said dressmaker would raise her eyebrows much higher than Jeeves’s fraction of a jot at these strange and unfeminine numbers. Therefore, I confided that my sister was unfortunately built along the same lines as yours truly and was too embarrassed to enter the shop and order the dress herself. As her brother, I said with a tear in my eye, it was my duty to spare her said embarrassment. The dressmaker had a tear of her own at the end of my long, sad tale and agreed to make the costume with all speed. I could pick it up in ten days, and would I please wish my poor sister the very best? Well, of course I would. When she returned from India, I certainly would.

The day of the ball found me in the bathroom with that cursed razor. I’d have thought Jeeves would have forgotten about my passion-fuelled promise, but no. That man never forgets anything.

I ran hot water in the bath and shucked the day's raiment. With both feet in the tub, I sat on the edge and contemplated how to proceed. I'd never shaved anything before besides the old Wooster visage, but I did know that some kind of lather was necessary to avoid any nasty after effects from the blade. Reaching for the soap, I set about creating massive amounts of foamy bubbles.

The first long swipe of the razor felt dashed peculiar. I rinsed the blade and made another. A pale stripe of hairless skin on my calf glowed and tingled. I ran a finger lightly over the flesh, and a shudder of unexpected pleasure ran down my spine. How curious!

Hastily -- but not too hastily, as I didn't think Jeeves would find bleeding shins all that attractive -- I finished removing the hair from my leg. Rinsing off the remaining lather felt oddly exquisite. Running my digits over the newly nude skin, I could understand why females put themselves through this. It felt awfully pleasant, enough so that a certain part of my anatomy was standing at full attention.

So I shaved my legs all the way up to my groin, feeling a bit randy as I did so. My chest took no time at all and neither did my armpits, as I have never been an especially hairy chap, anyway. My nipples, however, took a decided interest in the proceedings and showed their approval by becoming as hard and red as cherry pits. I dreaded the last bit, but knew it had to be done. Hoping to quell the body's untimely reaction, I thought disgusting thoughts about the way Sir Watkyn Bassett eats soup, and wielded the razor one last time.

Still, by the time I was finished, I was raring to go. I disliked doing the job by hand, however, and Jeeves had biffed off to his lair to don his own costume. So I ended my preening with a freezing cold bath and everything was sadly back to normal, if you discounted the slight ache in my marble bag, if I may call it that.

I wanted to surprise Jeeves with my costume, so I locked the door while I got dressed. I’m sure there are other chaps who like to dress up now and then in such frippery; I can’t possibly be the only one who enjoys the feeling of silk stockings and corset stays. In fact, Oofy Prosser himself had once worn a dress to a mock Drones dance, but he had cheated and worn his own pants beneath the ensemble. The reason I know this is because he fell over the billiards table trying to get away from Tuppy and Bingo, who were both professing their undying love for him. Oofy’s dress flew over his head and his pants were on display for all and sundry.

I, however, went for authenticity. I had stockings, a garter belt, a corset and any number of petticoats and lacy underthings that looked deuced complicated. And, of course, the dress. The dress was a lovely silk in Jeeves’s favourite shade of blue, which just happens to be the colour of my eyes. Very convenient.

I slid the stockings up my newly shaved stilts and nearly swooned at the feel of silk whispering over that sensitive skin. Down, boy, I told the rising appendage between my legs. Heel. It didn't listen. After a few moments of imaging what Aunt Agatha's underthings must look like, my problem went away.

Quickly, I donned the garter belt and corset. The latter was difficult to lace on my own, but I managed with a bit of twisting and hopping around. The result was that I had more of a waist than usual and the tiniest swells of flesh at the top of the chest, which could conceivably be bosoms if one didn't look too closely and had had a few brandies first. I stuffed a few handkerchiefs down the front of the corset to help the illusion along, and was quite pleased with the outcome. I threw the silk dress on and looked at myself in the mirror. I wouldn't be winning any beauty pageants, it was true, but the total effect was nonetheless feminine.

All that remained was donning my rented blond wig, applying some stage make-up and a coat of bright red lipstick, and slipping on the elaborate mask that more than hid my identity. As I examined the finished product in the full-length mirror, I heard a knock at the door.

“Sir, it is nearly time to leave,” Jeeves said, his voice muffled.

“Coming, darling,” I said in a singsong voice I hoped resembled that of a princess. “Just a minute.”

I opened the door and sashayed into the sitting room, only a little wobbly on kitten-heeled pumps. Jeeves was sitting on the chesterfield, smoking a gasper. He stopped mid-puff and stared at me, then crushed out the g. in a nearby ashtray. It was as close as I’ve ever come to making him speechless.

He stood up and approached me as if he were in a trance. When he reached me, he placed his warm hand on the side of my face and gazed into my eyes. “You are beautiful, sir,” he said. “And I could think of several things I’d like to do with you, rather than attend this ball.”

I nodded at this gracious compliment, ready to play my part to the hilt.

“That is kind of you to say, Prince Charming, but I have my heart set on it,” I said and winked at him. “Perhaps later...”

“There is no perhaps about it, my love,” he said as he let go of my face and donned his mask. “It will be later.”

I stood back to look at him. If the real Cinderella had laid on eyes on Jeeves, she’d never have taken up with that fool and his glass slipper. Jeeves’s royal raiment suited his tall, broad-shouldered form. His long, dark wig was tied back with a bit of ribbon at his neck. The tight-fitting and deep blue brocade jacket and cream waistcoat accentuated his massive chest and tapered waist. The cream-coloured stockings made his calves look about twelve feet long, and my mouth watered as my eyes travelled up them and his magnificent thighs to the prize hidden behind the crotch of his blue knickerbockers.

I almost lost my resolve there and then, but I fortunately kept my wits about me and urged Jeeves to escort me from the flat before I tackled him to the floor. Instead, we went down the stairs, past the smiling doorman and off to the ball.

I took Jeeves’s arm as we waited for a cab. It felt wonderful doing that in public; had we done so dressed as Jeeves and Bertie... Well, I don’t like to think what would have happened. Two years in chokey at least. The cab pulled right up to the curb, and Jeeves opened the back door of the thing with princely aplomb. He took my hand and guided me inside, bunged himself in beside me and told the driver to leg it for the ballroom the Drones had rented for the evening.

We arrived just late enough to make a grand entrance. Jeeves handed over our ticket with a barely perceivable nervous tremble in his stately hand, and escorted me into the ballroom. I can’t say we started all tongues wagging, but a fair few stared at the two of us. I had to hand it to Jeeves. He acted as if he escorted men dressed as women to Halloween balls every night of the week. We fetched up together before the bar, ordered cocktails, and proceeded to the nearest empty table. I remembered to wait until Jeeves had pulled my chair out for me, then sat down and smoothed my blue silk skirts to great effect.

As luck would have it, Tuppy was the first to stroll up to our table. I knew who he was because he had told me he was going to wear a King George III costume. He had no guest, as my cousin Angela was pipped at some comment he’d made concerning her new dress from France. The poor chap looked lonely and quite tipsy already, and I was going to offer him a seat at our table until I felt Jeeves’s hand on my thigh.

“Don’t, sir, or the game will be up,” he whispered in my ear.

“What ho?” Tuppy asked, clearly trying to identify the pair of us.

“Good evening, sir,” Jeeves said in a voice quite unlike his own.

Tuppy cocked his head like an interested chicken and considered Jeeves. “Do I know you?”

“Of course,” Jeeves said in that same strange voice.

“Well, who are you?” Tuppy asked, a trifle belligerent.

Jeeves slid his arm around my shoulders. “We cannot reveal our identities so early in the evening, sir,” he said. “Would that not spoil the fun if we did?”

“I suppose,” Tuppy said. He fixed his chicken gaze on me and smiled in a way Tuppy never smiled at Bertram. If that’s the grin Angela got, I could see why she was always parting brass rags with him. “And who have we here? Someone I’d like to get to know better, I suspect.” And the chap rather leered at me, the blighter, his eyes straying to my faux bosom.

“The lady is spoken for, sir,” Jeeves said, a touch of menace to his voice.

But Tuppy, the poor chap, didn’t know with whom he was dealing. He pursued his line of questioning like some baying hound on the trail of an unfortunate fox.

“She can speak for herself, can’t she?” Tuppy asked, taking a long gulp of his drink then placing the glass on our table. He held out his hand, or rather waved it in my face, and asked if I’d like to dance.

I turned a mock horrified look on Jeeves, and was surprised to see an angry glint in his eyes. Now, if you’ve been reading my chronicles all along, you know you can’t rattle Jeeves. But he was rattled now and in a way that didn’t spell good things for my old pal Tuppy.

Jeeves stood up and towered over the poor Glossop in quite an intimidating manner. He turned to me and held out his hand. “Would you care to dance, my dear?” he asked, his dark, angry eyes clearly telling me I’d better say yes.

I nodded my head in a gracious manner and took his outstretched hand. Jeeves led me onto the dance floor without sparing Tuppy a glance.

Jeeves pulled me into his arms and, fortunately, there was no fumbling as to whose hands went where. My right hand curved over his shoulder, while his left hand took possession of my waist. We stepped into a waltz as if we had danced together for years. It was dashed difficult to remember not to try to lead. I don't know how women do it, all that dancing backward all the time.

A few moments into the waltz, Jeeves leant down slightly. To all appearances, he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, but his words were anything but sweet. They were a bit sour, as a matter of fact. “Mr. Glossop has developed an unfortunate attraction to you, sir.”

I whispered back. “He doesn’t know I’m me. He thinks I’m some single filly, Jeeves.”

“Then I will remind you, sir,” he said as he tightened his grip on my waist. “You have only one rider.”

Now, a modern young lady worth her salt would have balked at such possessiveness. But I was not a modern young lady, nor was I made of salt. I had never seen Jeeves like this, but then of course, we’d never been together in such a way outside the flat. He was jealous. Green-eyed whatsit jealous. It felt wonderful, in a soppy, adoring way.

“How in the world,” I whispered in his ear, “could you think I’d want anyone else but you?”

“How indeed, sir,” he said against my cheek, our masks brushing.

The waltz ended, but Jeeves did not remove his arm from my waist. I could see Tuppy staring at us, another drink in his hand and a sour look on his map.

“I should like to leave, sir,” Jeeves said, glaring back at Tuppy.

“But we just arrived,” I protested.


He looked down at me, his eyes still bright with annoyance. “You’d like to stay, then? Perhaps you enjoy the idea of me fighting for you.”

“Jeeves,” I said, “you’re taking this all wrong. Tuppy is tight as an owl. He has no more a taste for Bertram in a dress than he does for an undercooked steak and kidney pie. And he doesn’t even know who I am.”

My love had the grace to agree with me. Let it never be said that Jeeves is too small a man to admit when he is wrong. He smiled at me, the kind of smile reserved for quiet and intimate moments, and I suddenly wanted more than anything to have a quiet, intimate moment. But just as I was about to suggest locating the nearest broom closet, Julius Caesar staggered up to us.

“Ho, ho,” the Roman emperor said, and grabbed my arm at the elbow. “Who have we here?”

Jeeves wrapped the man’s wrist in his iron grip. “Please remove your hand, sir,” he said, his voice like velvet over steel.

“It’s a party, man!” the drunken Drone said as he sloshed his drink on the floor. “Let the lady have a little fun.” His hand squeezed my arm in the most dashed unpleasant way.

“If you don’t remove your hand, sir, you will greatly wish that you had,” Jeeves said. I could see his fist tighten on my assailant's wrist.

Caesar paled, removed his hand, adjusted his toga, and staggered off to parts unknown. “Jeeves,” I said under my breath. “Aren’t you overreacting just a little? I mean to say, they’re Drones. They’re harmless.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He escorted me back to our table where we finished our drinks and watched the crowd.

“Would you care for another drink?” Jeeves made to rise from the table.

“Thank you, yes,” I said, and flashed him a winsome smile. I knew he was raising his eyebrows, even if I couldn’t see them behind the black mask.

"I trust I can leave you for a moment without worrying you'll be dancing with another gentleman when I return?"

I waved this unworthy question away and laughed airily. "Of course, darling! I shall be sitting here, waiting impatiently for your triumphant, drink-laden reappearance."

Jeeves smiled and melted into the crowd. I took the opportunity to survey the landscape. The Drones were lurching everywhere in a light-hearted and jovial fashion. The women guests appeared to be having a lovely time, if not an equally drunken one. So intent was I on watching the proceedings, that I didn’t notice until it was too late that George Washington had taken Jeeves’s chair.

The late president of the United States threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close enough to whisper in my ear. “I don’t know who you are, my lady, but I’d tip your skirts any time you like. Just say the word and I'll be at the ready.”

Jeeves materialized from nowhere. That dangerous glint in his eye was back, and I feared for my admirer’s future health and well-being.

“Take your arm away, sir,” Jeeves said in a voice that could freeze blood at ten paces.

George turned around. He looked up. And up. Jeeves at full height and in full outrage was a sight I would not want to view without having had fortification, in the form of several cocktails.

“And what happens if I don’t?” George asked, a bit foolishly if you ask me. But, since nobody asked, I felt it in my best interests to let Jeeves handle the situation.

“You will wish you had never been born.”

George got to his feet and tried to look Jeeves defiantly in the eye. Being about five inches shorter, he made a poor job of it. Deciding discretion was the better part of whatsit, George legged it.

“We are leaving, sir,” Jeeves said, very nearly slamming our drinks on the table, “before anything else untoward happens.”

“But, Jeeves, I don’t want....”

Jeeves’s firm hand on my arm gave me little choice. We didn’t exactly sprint, but by the time we neared the entrance, I was out of breath. I dug in my kitten heels and forced him to stop.

“Oi!” I panted. “You’re not very charming for a Prince Charming. I was having fun! Why are you so bally jealous?”

Before answering, Jeeves pulled me close to his chest. Even through what seemed like hundreds of layers of petticoats, I could feel that Jeeves was aroused. "Because," he growled into my ear, "it drives me mad to see another man touch you with lecherous intent. Especially when I want to make love to you so desperately that I could throw you over a table here and now and take you until you scream."

I gulped, and felt my own body throb with want. "You'll hear no objections from me, old thing," I told him with a shaky voice.

Jeeves gave our surroundings the once-over. Before I could ask where he was going, he pulled me down a side hallway and opened the nearest door. It turned out to be a small closet containing uniforms of various types. Between the rack of uniforms and Jeeves and myself, there was little room to spare. Jeeves shut the door behind us and dove for my mouth.

Our masks bumped and got in the way. With a growl, Jeeves ripped his from his face and threw it behind him, before taking my lips roughly with his own. A jolt of lust ripped through my stomach at his impatience.

It was a bit odd kissing Jeeves with the taste of lipstick between us. It reminded me a little of the smacker Honoria Glossop had hit me with the last time we were engaged. Deuced unpleasant. I tried to put all thoughts of makeup and overzealous females out of my head, and concentrate on the wonderful things Jeeves was doing with the tip of his tongue. It wasn't hard to do.

Moaning, I met Jeeves's tongue with my own for a bit of a duel. I tried to take control of the kiss, but it seemed Jeeves wasn't in a submissive mood. He nipped my lower lip as he pulled away from my mouth. "Turn around, sir," he rumbled, and my midsection fluttered pleasantly. Before I knew it, I was being turned and pushed face first into the row of hanging uniforms, while Jeeves pulled up my skirts.

I fumbled in the dark until my hands found something solid to hang on to. The edge of the shelf above my head, it felt like. The old digits clutched the wood fiercely, as Jeeves ran his own talented fingers up the backs of my legs through the silk stockings. "Oh, sir," he breathed in what sounded like wonder. Or perhaps it was awe. "Your legs...." The t. f.s ran up and down the backs of my thighs, causing a tingling sensation in the overly sensitive skin, the likes of which I'd never felt before. "They feel amazing."

"Yes, yes," I agreed. "Keep touching me!"

One hand did just that, but the other slid further north under the bunched petticoats that still covered my posterior. That adventurous hand met naked skin. "Oh!" Jeeves groaned. "Sir, are you naked under your dress?"

"Couldn't figure out the frilly underthings," I admitted. My voice had become high and quite breathless at the feel of Jeeves's capable palm fitting itself to the curve of me.

Jeeves shuddered behind me. He threw my skirts up around my shoulders, then withdrew both his hands. I whimpered at the loss -- in a way most befitting my costume, I can assure you -- but I could hear Jeeves fumbling with his various straps and buckles behind me, which was encouraging. There were a few muttered curses, the kind Jeeves only ever uses when he feels unable to undress fast enough to appease his libido, then Jeeves was sighing with relief. A second later, I felt the scorching heat of his erection pressed to my backside.

"Oh, yes!" I cried. "Make love to me, please!" I attempted to bend at the waist to give Jeeves a better angle, but there just wasn't enough room in the dashed small closet. Taking hold of my hips, Jeeves rocked our bodies together. His impressive length slid up and down between the halves of me, and I could feel it leaking against my skin. "Inside me, damn it," I grunted.

"I can't, sir," Jeeves said behind me with a touch of mournful something or other in his voice. "I neglected to bring the oil with us." He thrust against my backside with more vigour. The material of his knickers brushed against the backs of my props, sending shivers down my spine with every touch.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Why didn't you bring it?"

Jeeves huffed as if irritated with the young master. "I did not think we would be making love at the ball, sir, so I did not believe we'd need it."

I chuckled, then gasped as Jeeves reached around me and attempted to shove one hand down the front of my corset, reaching for a nipple, I imagined. "Well, now you know better. Keep it on your person from now on, love. You never know when or where I'll want you." Jeeves found the nipple he'd been searching for and squeezed it between thumb and forefinger. I arched backward into him with a wanton moan.

"Yes, sir," Jeeves breathed into my ear. He clutched one hip and began moving in earnest against me.

All the rubbing and thrusting was quite pleasant, of course, but my own anatomy was eager to get in on the action at this point. Jeeves had yet to touch my cock, which was something that needed to be remedied as soon as possible. I opened my stance a little in order to get more stability in my weakened knees, and dropped a hand from its bracing position to guide Jeeves's hand at my side to a place more front and centre. Jeeves was most obliging and wrapped his broad, slightly rough hand around my erect flesh. I mewled rather piteously as he began to stroke.

It was quite cosy in the closet, with Jeeves moulded so completely to my body, his breath on my neck and his hands working industriously to bring me to my release. I could have stayed there forever, or at least until the need for a restorative bite to eat forced us from our dark love nest. But then Jeeves's hand slipped lower to cup my plums and found the wrinkled skin to be as smooth as my legs and chest.

"Sir!" Jeeves cried in my ear. "You...?" He gulped and buried his face in my throat. His hand explored my nether regions, getting quite a good feel of the area. "You shaved here, as well?"

"Everything from toes to neck," I gasped back, barely able to speak. Jeeves's fingers on that most sensitive bit of skin are always an experience in ecstasy, but with the skin freshly shaved.... Words fail me. It was exquisite. It was Heaven. It was going to make me come.

Jeeves beat me there, however. With a groan, he pushed rather forcefully against my backside, and I felt spurts of warm liquid cover my lower back. "Sir, Bertie, Bertie," he said over and over. Jeeves only ever calls me Bertie at the climax of our intimate encounters, and I look forward to it every time. Just then, however, I was more focused on finding my own peak of pleasure.

As Jeeves shook and panted behind me, I used my own hand to guide Jeeves's along my shaft. "Please," I begged him. "Please, darling, finish me."

After a few seconds to catch his breath, Jeeves stepped back as much as the restricted space allowed. "Turn around." I did as he bade, pulling my skirts down over the mess on my back. As soon as I faced him, Jeeves dropped to his knees and ducked under my skirt.

I still don't know how he did it, but Jeeves's mouth found my hairless sac without error. He immediately set about licking and sucking at my eggs while five of his long digits resumed stroking my cock and the other five rubbed his release into my skin. I could do nothing but gasp under his talented assault. "Oh, oh, oh!" My voice got higher with every exclamation.

It was impossible to run my hands through Jeeves's hair with my dress covering his head. Instead, I clutched the high shelf once more and held on for dear life. My orgasm was rapidly approaching. I could feel it at the base of my spine and in the way my toes were curling inside the kitten-heeled pumps. "Nearly!" I warned Jeeves, only to have the brilliant man take me into his mouth and down his throat. Jeeves swallowed around the tip of me, and I was gone, screaming with abandon.

Which is precisely when the door of the closet opened. "Oh!" a startled male voice said. "Good heavens! Awfully sorry!" And the door was shut once more. Neither Jeeves nor I paid it any attention.

Like the attentive lover he is, Jeeves sucked me through the height of my pleasure, then milked me with a fist as I floated down from Heaven on silver clouds of something or other. "Oh, Jeeves," I sighed. I always felt rather boneless after a jolly good o. and this time was no exception. I leaned back against the uniforms a bit and attempted to catch my breath.

Still under my skirts, Jeeves gave me a bit of a wipe down and placed a last kiss on my softening genitalia. He emerged and stood, immediately going for my mouth. We kissed for a moment, me enjoying the musky taste on Jeeves's tongue, before I remembered the door.

"Er, Jeeves. Was I hallucinating with ecstasy, or did the door open during the critical moment?"

"Yes, sir. I believe it was Mr. Fink-Nottle, if the slight lisp was any indication."

"Oh, dear." I frowned severely. This did not bode well. "Any danger, do you think?"

Jeeves mulled this over for a second whilst straightening our costumes. Finally, he said, "No, sir, I do not believe this presents a problem. Your mask was still in place and I was hidden beneath your gown. Mr. Fink-Nottle undoubtedly got a good look at your legs, but I do not believe he will be able to identify them as belonging to you. He will know that Cinderella and Prince Charming were making love in the closet, but not the identities of the people beneath the costumes." He replaced his mask and we were both immaculate once again, though there was a distinct odour about us.

I sighed in relief. "Well, best not to push our luck, eh, Jeeves? Let's go home before someone does recognize us."

"Not yet, sir. If you would indulge me, I'd like one last dance with you before we go."

"What? Jeeves, only a few minutes ago, you were dragging the young master toward the door! What makes you want to stay now? Especially with Gussie no doubt telling anyone who will listen what he just saw?"

Jeeves opened the door of the closet, and we both blinked at the sudden bright light. I saw Jeeves tuck a handkerchief into the pocket of his brocade jacket and recognized it as one I had stuffed down the front of my corset to impersonate breasts. He must have snatched it when he was fondling my chest and used it in the clean-up effort. Always thinking ahead, Jeeves is.

"I want to dance with you, my love," Jeeves said, once again using the voice that was not his, "because I want every man on the dance floor to see how flushed and beautiful my lovemaking has made you." He ran a finger down my red and sweaty cheek and smiled at me, his eyes burning intensely through the eyeholes in his black mask. "I want them all to see the way you look at me with adoration in your eyes. I want every man who leered at you tonight to know that you are mine and that you love only me, as I love only you. If this is my only chance to declare myself and stake a public claim, I will take it."

Well, I say. How could I say no to that? I held out my hand. "Shall we?"

He tucked my hand in the crook of his arm and, with our chins held high, we proceeded to the crowded dance floor. Now, in Angela's storybook, if I remember rightly, the dancers cleared the floor when the prince began hoofing it with Cinderella. Well, they didn't exactly clear the floor at the Drones' Halloween Masked Ball, but, all of sudden, we had plenty of it to ourselves.

Jeeves opened his arms and I went into them without hesitation. I ignored the whispers of outrage from the women, as I gazed up at my lover like a wide-eyed virgin. Jeeves took my hand and my waist in a firm grasp and whirled me around the floor. His hand drifted to my lower back as he hauled me up against his beautiful body, and I could feel his desire through my layers of silk and lace again.

"Everyone is watching us, sir," he whispered in my ear.

"Then let us give them something to see," I said and nibbled at his jaw line.

Jeeves lowered his mouth, and I groaned out loud when he latched onto my neck, sucking and biting and licking and doing God knows what else that he'd never done outside the confines of our flat. The music ended, but we didn't notice it until Jeeves raised his face from my neck. He brought us to a graceful halt and kept his arm around my waist. I thought I heard crickets chirping, but that turned out to be the twitter of feminine irritation. The men, however, were a different story. They broke out in spontaneous applause until they were shushed by their womenfolk.

"This would be a good time to make our exit, sir," Jeeves whispered into my ear. "Do you know how to curtsy?"


He took my hand and held it up, bowing as he did so. I got the idea and dipped low, allowing Jeeves to help me to my feet. We nodded and smiled as we made our way through the crowd. As we waited at the door for another couple to leave, I overheard yet another enraged female voice.

"Look at her," she said. "Absolutely no shame. In a closet, at a respectable dance! Well, I never...!"

"I know," a morose male voice muttered. "Don't I know."

We legged it outside and Jeeves hailed a cab, shoved us into it and we were off for home. Jeeves pulled me close to his side and wrapped his strong arm around my shoulders. His other hand went to the hem of my dress.

"Your gown appears to be caught on my shoe, my love," he said. He snuck his hand under the hem. "Ah, that's better."

I caught my breath as he slid his hand from my ankle to my knee. I clamped a hand on top of his wandering digits before he could hike my hem any higher. A cramped closet was one thing, but the back of a cab?

"Jeeves," I whispered in his ear. "A cramped closet is one thing, but the back of a cab? Are you out of your mind?"

The hand slid higher, and I found myself automatically spreading my thighs in anticipation. "Jeeves," I whispered again. "We'll be arrested! I can't go to chokey dressed like this. What would the other inmates say?"

Jeeves quirked his lip, just a little, and slid his hand all the way up to greet the little Wooster. I gulped in a breath and smiled at the driver, who was looking at us suspiciously in the rear-view mirror.

"Everything all right, miss?" he asked, glaring at Jeeves.

"Yes," I said in an unmanly high-pitched voice that I couldn't help. Jeeves chuckled and slid his hand back down my thigh to my knee, and then out from under my dress. "I love your legs like this, sir," he whispered into my ear. "I am going to enjoy removing all of your clothing stitch by stitch. I do hope you didn't have any other plans for the conclusion of this evening."

"Not a one," I said and squeezed his thigh. "Not a single one."

We pulled up in front of our building a few minutes later. Jeeves paid the driver, then helped me out of the cab. We legged it inside and up to the flat without wasting any time.

As soon as the door was shut behind us, Jeeves had me pinned to it. "You marvellous, beautiful, wicked man," I said as he attempted to gobble down my earlobe. "Molesting me in taxis... I thought that cabbie was going to turf you out for compromising my honour."

"I'll have your honour now, sir," Jeeves said, and grabbed my 'honour' through the layers of costume between us.

"Right-ho," I said and began tearing at Jeeves's costume. Jeeves pitched in, and our masks and wigs went flying, closely followed by his brocade jacket and my silk dress. Even with my man's aid, it seemed to take forever to get down to our skivvies, and I heard not a few seams rip in the process. But, finally, after kicking the last of my petticoats from my ankles, I stood before my love in only corset, garters, and stockings, while he pressed his bare-chested form into me. I gave a little hop and wrapped my silk-encased legs around Jeeves's waist.

This was something we discovered one tumultuous night at Brinkley Court about a year ago. If Jeeves holds me against a wall, and I encircle his waist and neck with my legs and arms respectively, then Jeeves can hold my weight just long enough to bugger me thoroughly before we both collapse into a boneless heap of jelly on the floor. It's not something we do often. Being a boneless heap of jelly on the floor is not as pleasant as, say, being a boneless heap of jelly in our quite comfortable and warm bed. However, said b. was rather far away and I needed Jeeves inside me at that very moment.

Jeeves took my bulk with nary a stumble. He merely pressed my back harder into the wood of the door and leaned in for a kiss, one of his large hands finding its way to lend support to my naked bottom. We kept up the labial lock until I nearly fainted from lack of oxygen. I ripped my lips from his and gasped, "Good Lord, Jeeves!"

"Indeed, sir." Jeeves smirked and began using his lips on my throat. Soon, his nimble and talented fingers found me ready and eager to get on with the main event. He stroked down my length once, and I shouted wordlessly to the ceiling.

"Oh, Jeeves, have me, take me, bugger me now!" I begged of him. "Fuck me through this door, man!"

Groaning, Jeeves pressed his hips firmly to my own, and I could feel the hard heat of him against my lower belly through his pants. "The oil, sir. It's still in our bedroom."

"Sod the oil, Jeeves, just do it!"

"I have a better idea, sir." And Jeeves began stroking the young master with intent. "Come for me, sir. Come in my hand."

I knew instantly what Jeeves had in mind. A rush of excitement shot through my frame at the very idea of Jeeves pounding into me with nothing but my own release to ease his way. "Yes, darling, please," I babbled until Jeeves stopped my words with his tongue. Aided by the fluid steadily weeping from the tip of me, his hand tightened and sped up on my flesh. It wasn't long until I was bucking against his hips, wild with lust for my man and very near orgasm. "Jeeves, Jeeves," I mumbled around his talented tongue, and held him closer about the neck and waist.

With only a few more seconds of his glorious hand on me, I exploded in orgasmic rapture. The pleasure crashed through me violently. It assaulted my internal organs and practically blew the top of my head across the room. I trembled and convulsed, and, very probably, shouted nonsense as loud as the Wooster lungs would allow. I couldn't know for sure, as I was too busy dying from ecstasy to listen properly. Jeeves held me firm throughout the ordeal, milking me with a fist until he had collected every drop of fluid flowing from me.

When the worst, or perhaps I should say best, of the devastation had passed, I kissed my man again, deeply. Jeeves moaned against my lips, biting the bottom one before pulling away. "Prepare me, sir," he commanded me. "Take out my cock."

I tried to undo the buttons of Jeeves's pants, but my fingers just didn't seem to want to cooperate. I don't know what their problem was. A naked Jeeves is always a good thing, and high on my list of priorities. But I could only fumble at the fly until Jeeves grunted in frustration. "Sorry, old thing," I told him. "Can't work it at the mo." Well, I say. What did he expect after liquefying my brain so completely only seconds before?

"Stand up then, sir," Jeeves said, and helped me get my stilts under me again. With one hand, he ripped open his last remaining article of clothing, releasing his beautiful manhood at last.

"Oh, Jeeves," I moaned, feeling my mouth water at the gorgeous sight. Before he could slather my seed over his erection, I fell to my knees and took it into my mouth. His erection, I mean, not the seed.

"Sir!" Jeeves's hips bucked forward, and I smoothly took him down my throat. I could bally well feel his eyes on me, as I bobbed at his groin. "Oh, your mouth..." he began, but trailed off as I sucked hard at the tip of him. "The lipstick... oh, sir, your red lips..." Jeeves's hand fisted in my hair, and I smirked as much as one can with a rather large penis in one's mouth.

I relish the taste of my lover -- can't get enough of him, really -- and love to have him finish across my tongue. On this night, however, I needed Jeeves to bugger me and bugger me hard. Therefore, I pulled off him with a pop and fell to all fours on the hardwood floor. Looking over my shoulder at my dishevelled and dazed valet, I smiled coyly at him and gave him my best seductive 'come hither' eyes. "Now, Jeeves," I demanded. "And do it hard."

Jeeves was mounting me before I finished speaking. He ran the fingers of his dry hand up my stocking-clad leg from ankle to hip, causing shivery aftershocks to dart through the old Wooster body like a ball in one of those bagatelle machines. My arms weakened, and I fell forward onto my elbows. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of wet fingers moving on an equally wet prick and knew Jeeves was preparing for me. My body tensed in anticipation.

The next moment, two slightly sticky fingers were probing me in the place only Jeeves has ever seen. I moaned and opened my thighs wider for him. I could hear Jeeves curse, in that special way he has, and his fingers pushed into me harder and deeper. After the minimal amount of stretching necessary for congenial coitus had been met, Jeeves's fingers withdrew, and he pushed into me with something considerably larger.

"Oh, sir!" he gasped as my body eagerly accepted him.

"Jeeves," I whimpered, loving the stretch of muscles and the clutch of his fingers on my hips. "Yes, Jeeves, hard!" Always one to obey a direct order from the young master, Jeeves pushed in to the hilt, withdrew slightly, then thrust back in hard enough to jar my teeth. I shouted my wordless encouragement, and we were off.

Jeeves took me forcefully, deeply, completely. I spread my legs for him as far as they would go and let him have me as he would. Jeeves seemed to appreciate the gesture, grunting and muttering words of love and devotion as he pounded away at my yielding form. One of his hands scrambled at the back of my lovely cream-coloured corset, before catching hold of the ribbon and using it to pull me back into his thrusts. By the time Jeeves was nearing his own release, I was feeling well and truly his, in every sense of the word.

One of Jeeves's hands suddenly left my hip and travelled under my body to grasp my newly hairless testicles in his palm. "Oh, darling, I can't," I gasped between his energetic thrusts into my posterior. "Not so soon... give me... a sec..." But Jeeves must not have been fondling my bald eggs with the intention of arousing me once more. For no sooner had the words passed my lips than Jeeves was bellowing like an enraged bull moose and coming quite forcefully. Not that I know what a bull moose sounds like, of course, whether enraged or content. But he sounded as I imagine one would when quite put out.

The movement of my man's hips slowed as his climax raged through him. He made love to me almost gently then, the hand on the most delicate part of my anatomy caressing in an awfully pleasant way. I could just feel the slight increase of warmth and moisture inside me that was Jeeves's release. I love that feeling. Jeeves murmured my name then, "Bertie, Bertie," over and again, and it was the finest symphony to my ears.

As the orgasm passed, Jeeves fell forward onto his hands that he planted on either side of my shoulders, and he slid within me in nearly imperceptible, tiny movements. Eventually, he stilled. I could feel his heaving breaths against my upper back and neck. Twisting as much as I could, I tried to catch his lips with my own, but was unsuccessful. "Jeeves, darling," I said. I gave a little shimmy under his weight. "Come around here so I can kiss you."

Gently, Jeeves withdrew himself from me and flopped onto his back on the floor. It was but the work of a moment to install myself on his chest and attach my mouth to his. "I love you, Jeeves," I told him, when I finally released his lips.

"And I you, sir," he said, still rather breathless.

I laid my head on his shoulder and ran my fingers through the sweaty mess of dark hair between his nipples. His own digits stroked the side of my corset and down the garter to the top of one of my silk stockings. I thought of the evening and Jeeves's reactions to certain events. "And you know, don't you, old thing, that I love only you? I mean, those other men can leer at me, dressed as Cinderella or not, but it matters not one whit. You're the first and only lover I'll ever have. It's Jeeves or no one for Wooster, B."

Jeeves rolled us onto our sides, and his nimble fingers began undoing the laces of my corset. "I do know that, sir. I apologize if my..." Jeeves paused, as if trying to find the right phrase.

"Jealousy?" I supplied, always willing to jump in with a helpful word.

Jeeves pursed his lips but nodded slightly. "I apologize if my jealousy upset you, sir. I am not used to other men vying for your attention."

The corset was removed, and I took a deep breath, the Wooster lungs once again able to expand as God intended. "I'm not upset, darling. In fact, your zeal to possess the young master was jolly well appreciated at the time, I can assure you." We smiled at each other like the love-struck buffoons we undoubtedly were. Well, I say we, though I'm sure it was I doing most of the soppy grinning.

After a moment more, Jeeves gracefully rose to his feet and offered me a hand. Upright on wobbly pins once again, I leaned into my man's solid chest. Jeeves pressed a kiss to my neck, then said, "Shall I draw us a bath, sir?"

"No need, Jeeves. I'm not through with you yet this evening."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Indeed, sir?"

"Indeed, indeed. I might have been dressed as a woman tonight, Jeeves, but I am all man, and I intend to remind you of that fact." I squeezed his muscular buttocks to make sure he understood my lubricious intentions.

The quirked eyebrow rose even higher. "Very good, sir. And if I may be so bold, sir, as to ask, would you leave the stockings on?"

"As you like. But first, a nap, Jeeves. Lead the way, if you'd be so kind."

He did, though neither of us got very much sleep that night. It seemed my hairless anatomy thrilled Jeeves to no end. Perhaps there’s really something to this shaving wheeze. At one point during that long, delicious night, I had to promise him I would shave for his birthday and Christmas before he’d bring me off.

I didn’t fully grasp what a sensation Jeeves and I had made at the Ball until we met up with Tuppy and Gussie outside of the Drones the next morning. Jeeves, all properly pinstriped, and I, got up in my man’s favourite suit and tie, practically ran into them as they stepped out the door. I knew word must have gotten around the night before, but I had assumed everyone was so torched that they’d have forgotten about our little tryst in the closet come morning.

Not so.

“Bertie,” Gussie said and grabbed my arm. “Where were you last night? You didn’t show up for the ball.”

“I certainly did, Gussie. I was Julius Caesar.”

“But there were at least five of those, Bertie,” Tuppy said. “Which one were you?”

“The drunken one, I expect, Tuppy,” I said. “I didn’t see either one of you. Enjoy yourselves, what?”

“Bertie,” Gussie said, dropping his voice to a whisper, which didn’t go well with his lisp. “You’ll never guess what I saw.”

I had to fight to keep my cheeks from reddening. I glanced at Jeeves out of the corner of my eye, which was pointless, really. The man merely acted as if Gussie were about to deliver a weather report, blast him.

“What, Gussie?” I said with studied nonchalance. “What did you see? A ghost?”

“No, Bertie,” Tuppy interrupted. “Gussie saw....”

“It’s my story, Tuppy; let me tell it,” Gussie said. “This couple were in a closet of some kind, brooms or something -- or maybe it was mops -- but there were clothes in there, too. But anyway....”

“He saw a couple, I still don’t know who they were, doing something I’ve never even heard of,” Tuppy said, unable to control himself. “This woman, dressed as Cinderella or something -- ravishing, by the way! I nearly got to dance with her, but that big ape with her just about took my head off -- well, she and he were having it off in that closet!”

“Having it off,” I said. “Having what off?”

“Good Lord, Bertie, you’re such an innocent,” Gussie said. "They were doing... it... in the closet. At least, I think they were. He was hidden under dress, and she was letting off such a howl that I’m surprised the entire ballroom didn’t hear it!"

“You’re kidding, old fruit,” I said, and choked back a laugh. “Jeeves, have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“No, sir, I have not.”

“What do you think of that, Bertie?” Tuppy asked. “What kind of woman would allow a man to do that in such a public place? I’ll tell you,” he said without waiting for a response. “One I’d like to get to know a lot better.”

“Well,” I said, knowing perfectly well what kind of woman, or a man as to that, would allow such a thing. “Perhaps they’re in love, engaged even. Perhaps they just couldn’t wait for better circs before the passion overwhelmed them. It's like that sometimes in cases of what the poets call True Love, or so I've heard.” I chanced throwing Jeeves a knowing look. He returned with an acknowledging quirk of his luscious lips.

“She had the most beautiful legs,” Gussie said, his voice wistful.

“Gussie, you said you were only in there for a second,” Tuppy said. “How did you have time to gander at her gams?”

“That’s all I needed,” Gussie said. “Her legs were, I don’t know, strong or something. Lovely, anyway.”

“All I know, is that I should have punched that big chap,” Tuppy said. “Had I been a little less drunk, I could have done it. It was a party. Why couldn’t she have danced with me? Perhaps it could have been me in that closet.”

“Well,” I said, hiding a laugh. “Quite.”

I looked at Jeeves. His expression might have been inscrutable to everyone else, but I recognized that murderous glint. It was time to move things along before Jeeves moved Tuppy along.

“Well, Tuppy old thing, perhaps we could head inside and you can tell me all about it,” I said as I pushed them both ahead of me. “I was so toasted, I don’t remember much about the whole night.” I turned to my man. “I shall be home in time for tea, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir.”

He tipped his bowler and, as soon as Tuppy and Gussie turned their backs, the blighter winked at me. What could I do? I winked back.

I decided then and there that I would advocate another masked ball for the Christmas holidays. Jeeves would be a lusty pirate captain, and I would be his first wench. I followed Tuppy and Gussie into the Drones, all the while wondering what Jeeves would look like in those tall leather boots and nothing else.



( 70 comments — Leave a comment )
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Apr. 26th, 2009 03:17 am (UTC)

Please, erm, excuse me, old thing, while I scrape myself off the floor, will you? This was just, just, just HOT DAMN. Undoubtedly one of the most lusty fictions ever. Just filthy and wonderful. I heartily approve, and I will mem for a rainy day!

*high five!*
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:41 am (UTC)
*high five!* thank you, darling! we're so glad that you enjoyed it. :D
Apr. 26th, 2009 03:34 am (UTC)
\o/ so much win!

I have a crush on jealous!Jeeves, I love it when he comes out to play.

Fantastic job, the both of you!
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:39 am (UTC)
thanks, babe! :D jealous!jeeves ftw, seriously. there needs to be more of him in fic.
Apr. 26th, 2009 03:52 am (UTC)

The HAWT goes without saying, of course, but I also love Tuppy and Gussie unwittingly lusting after Bertie.

Go y'all. *throws confetti*
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:38 am (UTC)
yay! *loves confetti* thank you! :D
Apr. 26th, 2009 04:18 am (UTC)
*towels self off after cold shower* Wow...fabulously, deliciously hot..wow, loved it..wow. Sorry, I'm rambling and I make no sense but..wow. Thank you for that =)
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:38 am (UTC)
thank you! glad you liked it! :D
Apr. 26th, 2009 04:40 am (UTC)
Burble. Oh my GOD, jealousy and devotion and shaved legs and steamy, raunchy sex. I'm going to hump it all like a frustrated dog.

Apr. 27th, 2009 03:37 am (UTC)
*lol* oh, the mental images i have now! ;P but i'm so very glad you liked it. thank you!

i'm thinking a sequel is definitely in order. pirate!jeeves must be written.
Apr. 26th, 2009 04:48 am (UTC)
GOOD LORD! That was HOT! Wow. Well, I mean really really hot. This was so good that it took me a while to even form coherent sentences. Yeah, it was really good and have I mentioned that it was hot? HOT! So amazing that I'm constantly repeating myself.

I'm quite disppointed in Jeeves for not carrying around the lube. Also, hopefully Angela and Emerald will benefit from Bertie and Jeeves' err, excursion, unless Tuppy and Gussie stay completely oblivious.
Apr. 27th, 2009 02:39 am (UTC)
That's a thought. Tuppy and Gussie discovering the joys of cunnilingus.


I can easily picture Bingo going for it, though. Like Bertie, he seems the type to be game for trying anything at least once.
(no subject) - waqaychay - Apr. 27th, 2009 03:03 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - waqaychay - Apr. 27th, 2009 03:34 am (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 26th, 2009 05:10 am (UTC)
Whoa. I thought I was over Jeeves/Bertie or cross-dressing as fic device. That's...just...in style.

Hah, his legs.

Thank you both.
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:32 am (UTC)
we're very happy that you liked it. thank you! :D
Apr. 26th, 2009 05:39 am (UTC)
*chortles* "After a few moments of imaging what Aunt Agatha's underthings must look like, my problem went away."
You're so brilliant. Good show all round.
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:32 am (UTC)
thank you! :D
Apr. 26th, 2009 07:04 am (UTC)
Jealous!Jeeves love!
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:31 am (UTC)
glad you liked it! :D
Apr. 26th, 2009 07:51 am (UTC)
I'm usually a bit of a lurker but I had to comment on this! Jealous Jeeves! Cross-dressing Bertie! Hot exhibitionist sex! Please write the pirate fic now, now, now!! Thanks so much for this one :-)
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:31 am (UTC)
Re: OMG!
you're very welcome! thank you for the lovely comment. :D i'm rooting for a sequel, too. pirate!jeeves is just too good to pass up.
Apr. 26th, 2009 09:47 am (UTC)
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:30 am (UTC)
thank you!
Apr. 26th, 2009 12:46 pm (UTC)
Only this I have to say:
quality stamp
...Very humorous, too.
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:30 am (UTC)
*LOL* that's the first time i've even gotten a stamp of approval! we thank you!
Apr. 26th, 2009 12:48 pm (UTC)
Y'all know that I love this. It's kinkylicious. :)
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:29 am (UTC)
you are the best, babe. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Apr. 26th, 2009 01:10 pm (UTC)
If Wodehouse wrote slash this is exactly what it would be like. Absolute perfection!
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:29 am (UTC)
high praise, indeed! thank you so much! :D
Apr. 26th, 2009 01:33 pm (UTC)
OH GOD! I have no other words in my mind at the mo, so please excuse me, but OH GOD!

Ahem, where's my brain? A-ha.
I say, those last lines looks promising, btw... I would definitely read that too. Is there any chance that you two would do that volunterily or shall I lock you in some room with pens and papers 'til you have more?
Apr. 27th, 2009 03:28 am (UTC)
*lol* well, if i have my way, there will be a sequel. pirate!jeeves is just too good to pass up. ;D

thank you! and we're very happy you enjoyed it! :D
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