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Title: Jeeves and the Dread Pirate Wooster
Authors: storyfan and waqaychay
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: NC-17 (yeah, baby!)
Warning: A bit of swordplay, a bit of rough-ish sex, sand in unpleasant places.
Summary: It's Jeeves's birthday. Bertie knows how to celebrate. With swords.
Disclaimer: Sadly, neither Jeeves nor Bertie belong to either of us. All hail P.G. Wodehouse.
A/N: It is an unparalleled delight to write with storyfan. I have never had a collaborator so in tune with me. storyfan gets the credit for this series even existing, for she has a brilliant brain and the patience of a saint when I get blocked. She insists, however, that I take credit for the naughty bits, which I do gladly as long as she gets applause for the rest of it. ;D And thank you to the ever-lovely and brilliant crowson75 for the beta! You are awesome, my dear. Never forget that.

You can still find the prequel, "Jeeves and the Unmasked Balls", here.

The gentle breeze that wafted through the French doors bathed my face with warmth and peace and filled my nostrils with the scent of the exotic white plumeria that grew in profusion all around the cottage. The cottage itself was a delight, small but airy and well-appointed, and situated on a beach far from prying eyes. Giant palms shaded the little structure, bringing relief from the hot sun overhead. There was even a private area, enclosed by a tall white fence, where one might sunbathe nude.

I gazed at the ocean just yards from our front door. The water was a deep blue, calm and sparkling, and reflected the mood in which I found myself. Mr. Wooster was elsewhere in the cottage, attending to what he said were 'surprises.'

As I scan these few lines now, I realize I have made the same mistake Mr. Wooster often makes when writing his memoirs. I have ‘bunged,’ as he so charmingly puts it, the reader into the middle of the story, perhaps confusing him to no small degree. Please allow me to correct my transgression by relating the events of a remarkable night some four weeks ago, which is when this story really begins.

Mr. Wooster returned to our flat earlier than expected that afternoon. It was a surprise, as his usual practice was to remain at the Drones until tea time. I greeted him in the sitting room where he was pouring himself a drink. I could see by the expression on his face that he had news to impart. After kissing me on the cheek, he stood back and looked at me, his attitude that of an excited schoolboy.

“I shan’t tell you in a million years, Jeeves. I don’t care what you say or do or even guess, I will not tell you what you’re getting for your birthday.” Mr. Wooster shook his finger at me in a playful manner. “You will just have to wait and see. What was it the poet said about patience, Jeeves?”

“I believe it was Sir Thomas Wyatt, sir, who said:

“Patience! though I have not
The thing that I require;
I must, of force, God wot,
Forbear my most desire,
For no ways can I find
To sail against the wind.”

“That’s the ticket,” Mr. Wooster said. “You’d be sailing against the wind, Jeeves, if you tried to get this information from me. And don’t try to psychologise it out of me, either. I’m on to your tricks.”

“Very good, sir,” I said, all the while wondering what he was planning. His plots and schemes usually revealed themselves in due time, whether he wanted the revelations made or not. But he had piqued my curiosity. So I said nothing further and allowed him to play into my hands. I did not have long to wait.

“'Very good, sir'? That’s all you can say?” Mr. Wooster sounded disappointed. “You’re not even going to try?”

I had him, or so I thought at the time. “It is not my place, sir, to pry into your personal affairs.”

He huffed in annoyance. “You are my personal affair, Jeeves. Pry all you like.”

I lifted my eyebrows a fraction. “Sir, you have given me to understand that you wish to keep your information private.”

Mr. Wooster flopped into his favourite armchair. “Well, you certainly lack spirit in this, Jeeves. What is the point of having a secret if you don’t try to weasel it out of me?”

I nodded. “What have you purchased for me for my birthday, sir?”

Mr. Wooster jumped out of his chair and grinned widely. “I can’t tell you, Jeeves,” he said, as delighted as a child with a new toy. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret, sir?” I said as I advanced toward him. “And you claim I have no means by which I might divest you of that secret? I am afraid I must disagree with you.”

A wary expression replaced the grin. He edged around to the back of the armchair until it was between us.

“Now, Jeeves,” he said as we circled the chair, neither of us breaking eye contact. “I said I wasn’t going to spill the beans and I meant it.”

The breathless excitement in his voice belied his words. He enjoys the chase, loves being caught, and adores submitting to me. His desire for submission, however, in no way compromises his masculinity. His striking features, his slim, wiry frame, his beautiful and kind heart, and his insatiable desire for me combine to make him the most intoxicating man I have ever known. And he loves me as I love him, with a fierce and tender passion.

“But, sir,” I said as I closed the distance between us, “you did request that I try, did you not?”

Mr. Wooster held up a placating hand. “I mean to say, Jeeves, you mustn’t ruin the surprise. I’ve worked very hard on this.”

“I have no intention of ruining the surprise, sir,” I said and then reached out and slipped my fingers around his grey silk tie, preventing further flight. “I merely wish to know what it is. Having knowledge of a surprise does not always ruin it. It may simply allow one all the more time to enjoy it.”

I used the tie to draw him closer and closer until his face was an inch from mine. His warm breath caressed my cheek, and his parted lips begged to be kissed. I brushed my lips against his and withdrew, teasing him, knowing what he most wanted was my tongue against his own. My mouth trailed across his hot cheek, then along his jawline and down his elegant neck.

“What is your secret, sir?" I whispered against his ear. “Must I employ more drastic measures to extract this information from you?” I released the tie and moved my hands to his waist, to his back, and then to his buttocks. I felt the warmth of his body radiating through the fine material of his trousers, and the desire to see him naked and writhing under my own body, begging me to touch him, to let him come, threatened to undo me.

He shuddered against me and wound his strong arms around my neck, arching into my touch. Small, sweet sounds of delight escaped his throat as he pressed himself fully against me. I felt his desire, hard against my own, and it was all I could do not to tear his clothes from his body and ravish him where he stood.

“Do your worst, Jeeves,” he said, then moaned as I bit gently on his perfect earlobe. “I still won’t tell you. No matter what you do.”

“My worst, sir?” I said softly and then squeezed the firm flesh beneath my hands. “You have never experienced my worst.”

“Then I want to now,” he said and pulled my mouth to his. He kissed me deeply, forcefully, and then framed my face in his hands. “Show me your worst.” He kissed me again, gently this time. “See if you can break me, Jeeves. I dare you to try.”

I accepted his challenge. Several hours later, to my great surprise, his secret was still intact, despite my using restraints, a feather duster, and ice in my attempts to wrest it from him. And his secret had remained intact for the next month, until we boarded the ocean liner that brought us here to Cuba.

The reader should know how unusual a gift this trip was. Mr. Wooster's usual course of action would have been to purchase for me a book, as well as to grant me permission to do whatever I wished during our lovemaking. Mr. Wooster is an enthusiastic and demanding lover, always ready to try a new technique or a different position. As the reader can imagine, I anticipate my birthdays with great delight and often spend the week before thinking up adventurous positions into which I may bend my beautiful and flexible master. But this gift, the gift of a trip to Cuba, was more than I ever expected.

Mr. Wooster knew how I desired to see the island. I never could have afforded such a trip on my own salary, even though my employer is a generous one. A servant -- and I still think of myself as such in spite of our long understanding -- is taught to conserve his meagre wealth against illness and old age. The cost of such a trip could have kept me for more than a year. And whilst Mr. Wooster and I had declared our lifelong commitment to one another, our relationship was a precarious one, subject to the whims of a society that did not condone love between two men and would deal harshly with that love if it were discovered.

Yet there we were on the island I had so longed to see. Mr. Wooster had promised several fishing excursions, a tour of Havana, walks on the beach and all the seclusion we could want for two weeks. We had privacy in that cottage. We could talk without being overheard and share our love and our bodies without fear of discovery. This trip with Mr. Wooster was everything I had ever desired. As I stood before the French doors, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply of the salt air. My happiness was complete.

Mr. Wooster’s voice interrupted my reverie.


I turned around, eager to take him into my arms and make love with him in this exotic place, with the ocean breeze caressing our naked bodies and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach in our ears. I wanted to thank him for the hundredth time for bringing me here, for granting me my heart’s desire.

But the sight of him robbed me of speech.

Once before, I had seen my lover dressed as a woman in a gown and corset. The sight of his masculine body shaved and encased in silk and lace had driven me wild with lust, and I had extracted from him a promise to don the costume again for special occasions such as my birthday. However, since he had already gifted me with the trip, I had not expected him to fulfil that promise this year. I was completely shocked, therefore, to see Mr. Wooster standing before me in vestments better suited for a vixen of the high seas than a proper English gentleman.

Mr. Wooster's long legs were clean shaven and encased to the knees in black leather boots. His thighs were bare, visible and tantalizing beneath a short black skirt. I could see the petticoats below the hem, frilly and lacy and looking as if they would feel magnificent against my bare stomach as I took him from behind. He also wore a black leather bustier over a flowing red blouse, giving him the illusion of breasts peeking out of the low collar. Dark hair fell in curls against his shoulders, a high-quality wig from its appearance, and was topped with a three-cornered hat, with a long red feather sticking out jauntily from the side. Ruby red lips and flushed cheeks completed the ensemble.

I felt all the blood in my body rush to my groin as I gazed upon him.

"Sir," I began in a husky voice, but Mr. Wooster interrupted me.

"Captain Jeeves," he said, giving me a playful wink. "I, the Dread Pirate Wooster, have invaded your beach, intending to raid its treasures. If you want to keep your booty safe, I recommend you come and stop me."

I looked down at my own clothing with a frown. I was still wearing my usual summer uniform, hardly fitting for this type of play. "I am afraid, sir, that I am not dressed--"

Mr. Wooster drew a large parcel from behind his back and tossed it at me. I caught it deftly and stared at it.

"You have fifteen minutes, Captain Jeeves," Mr. Wooster said as he turned to leave the room, his skirts swishing temptingly around his thighs. "Meet me on the sand. And be quick about it, or I won't let you plunder my booty when I'm done with yours."

Before or since, I have never dressed as quickly as I did then.

Inside the parcel, I found a pair of black trousers so tight that I was forced to remove my underthings before I could fasten them. There was also a loose black shirt with ruffles down the front, a black waistcoat that I left open, and a gold scarf that I tied as a belt around my waist. Slipping on my own tall black boots and captain's hat, I began to feel like the pirate I was dressed as. I twisted my lips in what I hoped resembled a cruel smile and nearly ran for the beach.

Mr. Wooster stood on the sand, his back to the afternoon sun. His feet in their knee-length boots were spread wide, as if he were standing on a ship's heaving deck. The brilliant sun set the red blouse ablaze, and the wind whipped the long dark curls around his face and shoulders. To my astonishment, he held a rapier in either hand.

With his back to the sun, I could not see his face as I approached. I must have appeared cautious and uncertain because his next words were delivered as a taunt.

"Tell me, Captain Jeeves," he said, tossing the long curls over his shoulder with a shake of his head. "How do you expect to defend your beach with a hangdog attitude such as yours?"

He tossed me a rapier and seemed a bit surprised when I caught it easily and held it jauntily at my side. I threw myself into the game. If my playful and inventive lover wanted a battle, then he would get it.

"So you are the Dread Pirate Wooster," I said as we began circling each other. "I have heard much about you."

He grinned at me, appearing to enjoy himself immensely. "I should hope that you have, Captain Jeeves," he said. "I am the terror of the Cuban coast. No man and no treasure is safe while I prowl the seas."

"No man is safe?" I asked and an unexpected frisson of jealousy warmed my chest. "Tell me, my lovely pirate wench, how many men have you conquered? Five, ten, more? How many hearts have you plundered?"

My lips twisted in what might have been anger; to this day, I do not know. I could only picture my lover sweating and panting under scores of faceless strangers. But he belonged to me and only me. He needed to know this, I decided. He needed to be reminded of this fact.

"Dozens," he said, appearing not to notice my sudden ire. "Would you like to join that group of illustrious gentlemen, Captain Jeeves? But be warned. You will not take me without a fight."

He brandished his rapier in what he appeared to think was an expert fashion. I held my own in front of me and, with my free hand, motioned for him to come near.

"Why do you not approach me, my beautiful vixen? Do not tell me the Dread Pirate Wooster is afraid."

"I fear no man," he said, but his voice shook, betraying him to me, the only man who had ever made love to him. "Not even you, Captain Jeeves."

"Then defend yourself," I said, moving forward and sending my rapier crashing against his.

The impact sent his weapon flying from his hand. He looked at his hand, then back at me, incredulous, then walked backward a few steps. I levelled my blade at his heart, inches away from his perfect pale skin. He stood as if he'd grown roots, staring at me as I edged closer. I could see his face clearly now, and I was shocked at what I saw in his expression.

Fear and lust warred in his expressive blue eyes. I was certain he could still see the jealousy and anger in my own, and when I reached out my free arm to pull him to me, he turned and ran down the beach.

After a moment of stunned immobility, I gave chase. Mr. Wooster is a very fast runner, which has aided him in many of his escapades. However, the Dread Pirate Wooster's high-heeled boots slowed him considerably on the loose sand. I caught him in only a few yards. Grasping his upper arm, I pulled him sharply backward against my body. He struggled to free himself, but I gently laid my rapier across his chest. He stilled instantly, breathing hard.

"I have captured you. You are mine, lass," I said into his ear. "I will have you now, and it will be so perfect, you will never desire another."

Mr. Wooster swallowed hard. "You sound sure of yourself, Captain Jeeves."

"Oh, I am." I nuzzled the long curls falling over his ear. "I am versed in many of the most pleasurable torture methods. I will have you begging for my mercy before I make you come harder than you ever believed possible."

With a groan, Mr. Wooster pushed back into my groin. I ground my erection into his buttocks, hoping that he could feel me through all the layers of his frilly undergarments. "Jeeves," he moaned.

"Captain Jeeves," I reminded him. "I will have your respect, as well as your body."

Mr. Wooster took a deep breath, as if to centre himself and gather his courage. Then, he said in a defiant voice, "You may take both of those things by force, if you have a mind to do so, but you will never have my heart, Captain Jeeves."

A sharp pain went through my own chest at those words. I had to remind myself that this was only a game and that he did indeed love me, passionately and wholeheartedly. Nevertheless, when I next spoke, my voice held a slight tremor. "We shall see about that, my dear."

Very carefully, I released him and stepped away from his trembling form. Raising my arm, I once again pointed the end of my rapier at his chest as he turned to face me. I dipped the long blade of the rapier and used it to lift the hem of his skirt a few inches, until I could see that he was not wearing anything underneath the petticoats. My erection throbbed in my too-tight trousers. I allowed the skirt to fall again and ordered, "Remove your clothing. I want to see what treasures you are hiding."

Mr. Wooster's hand automatically flew to the ribbon holding the front of his bustier closed, but then paused and forced his hands back to his sides. He lifted his chin and said, "No." I pretended not to notice that his voice shook.

"Remove them, or I will cut them from your body."

My lover gasped and I could tell that arousal shot through his body by the way his hips jerked and his fingers curled. I had had no intention of carrying out my threat, but if that is what he wanted, I would oblige. Without waiting for his refusal, I used the rapier to cut the laces holding the bustier together. It was just sharp enough to slice cleanly and quickly. The black leather fell from his torso. With another careful slice, the red shirt parted down the middle. I was about to divest him of his skirt when Mr. Wooster shoved aside the blade with the back of his hand and flung himself at me.

Our mouths met with a ferocity that rarely comes into our lovemaking. I gripped Mr. Wooster about the waist and shoulders and pulled him flush to me, attacking his lips and tongue with my own. He refused to be dominated, fighting back fiercely as our mouths did battle. Neither of us wanted to give up the fight, but, eventually, Mr. Wooster had to break for air. He instead fell to kissing my neck, interspersing his frantic kisses with nips and growled words.

"Oh, Jeeves! I love.... You are so.... Love you... so much."

I was not idle whilst Mr. Wooster lavished me with his fervent attentions. My hands swiftly divested him of the ruins of his shirt, his hat and the wig. Once he was bared to the sun and my eyes, I dipped him backward over my arm. He gasped in surprise and clutched at my shoulders, off-balance and panting heavily. I kept him there as I feasted on his tiny brown nipples, loving the way his hairless chest felt under my lips. His skin was as smooth as silk and flushed dark pink. He groaned my name over and over as I suckled him, nipping the hard nubs occasionally and soothing the sting with my tongue.

"Oh, Jeeves," he panted. "Please, get undressed. Make love to me now."

In his urgency, he was losing the character he had chosen to play; however, I was not yet ready to relinquish the game. "Are you so easily conquered, milady? I expected a greater battle for your virtue," I said with my lips against his sternum.

Mr. Wooster shivered and attempted to push my waistcoat from my shoulders. "Oh, captain, my captain, the battle was lost the second I laid eyes on you. Now, come and claim your prize." He pushed one of my hands down and under his skirts until I was cupping one muscular buttock in my palm. I squeezed it and cherished the moan that elicited.

Straightening once again, I pulled Mr. Wooster flush to my chest and took his lips with my own. I kissed him and swore I could taste his eagerness for me. After a long moment, I pulled away from his mouth and gazed at the swollen, red lips as he licked them with his agile tongue. I could feel myself throb with lust for this wanton creature in my arms. "I will have you under me," I told him, "sweating and screaming my name. But, first, I want those pouting lips wrapped around my cock."

Burying his face in my neck, my master groaned my name and tangled his fingers briefly in my hair before dropping gracefully to his knees. His fingers shook as he fumbled at the fly of my trousers. I did not help him, for his frantic scrabbling felt exquisite against my erection. Finally, Mr. Wooster freed me, and my prick fairly leapt into his hands. Mr. Wooster leaned forward and rested his forehead against my lower belly for a moment, breathing deeply of my scent. Then, he extended his tongue and licked me, just above the patch of dark pubic hair. I ran my fingers through his sandy brown hair and tugged ever so gently. "Suck me," I ordered in the quiet, authoritative voice to which Mr. Wooster always responded eagerly.

A soft gust of breath chilled my moistened skin, then Mr. Wooster was moving, licking up my shaft from base to tip. He lapped at the head, catching the fluid leaking there on the tip of his tongue. His eyes fluttering shut in pleasure, he swallowed it down like it was the finest brandy. Once he had the taste of me, my lover was quite eager for more. He took the head completely into his mouth and sucked hard, causing my hips to jerk violently. He set his teeth against me gently and hummed, and I had to force my body not to buck again. He looked up at me with wide, seductive eyes as he worked, and I could not keep myself from groaning loudly at the lust I could see in his expressive features. The sight of his brilliant red lips surrounding my turgid flesh did not help me keep my control. I dug my fingers into his scalp and gently encouraged him downward.

Mr. Wooster complied, bobbing and alternating between using his tongue against the most sensitive part of my erection -- the sweet spot just under the foreskin -- and shoving the tip of that marvellous muscle into the slit. All the while, he worked the rest of the shaft with his fist and rolled my testicles in the palm of his other hand. From experience, he knew this was the fastest way to bring me to climax. I, however, did not wish to come in Mr. Wooster's mouth. I allowed his attentions for no more than a minute, then tightened my grip in his hair and used it to forcibly pull him away from my groin. He pouted most attractively and eyed my erection hungrily.

"Enough," I told him. "Turn around and lift your skirts."

I thought he meant to comply, but then Mr. Wooster's face split into a mischievous grin and he placed both hands behind my knees and jerked, sending me crashing to the sand in front of him. I lay there stunned for a short time, but it was long enough for him to straddle my waist and pin my hands to the sand.

"I have you now, Captain Jeeves," he said between kisses to my jaw. "You must remember, darling. Though you have captured the elusive heart of the Dread Pirate Wooster and have the body at your disposal, as well, your heart and luscious physique belong to me." And then he ground his naked crotch into my own. I could feel our erections rub together under his skirts and reached up to fill my hands with the flesh of his buttocks and pull us closer together.

"Is that right, milady?" I gasped as we began to rock together slowly. "Would you really claim this humble va-- pirate as your own?"

Mr. Wooster looked down at me, his face flushed and his eyes loving. His mouth lost the playful smirk. "Oh, yes," he whispered and leaned down to kiss me gently on the lips before speaking the next words against my cheek. "There is nothing I want more than for you to be mine for the rest of our lives, Jeeves."

Emotion closed my throat, and I was unable to speak. Instead, I took Mr. Wooster's lips with my own and kissed him as passionately as I could, thrilled that I could taste myself in his mouth. As I expressed my love through my lips and tongue, my hands also demonstrated the depth of my regard. I stroked Mr. Wooster's buttocks and hips, causing shivers of delight to course through his frame. I allowed my fingers to stray into the cleft, searching out that tight entrance with the intent of rubbing my fingertip against the smooth, dry skin, but what I found stunned me.

His opening was slick and dripping with oil and one fingertip slid easily inside. I pulled away from his mouth with a shocked gasp. "Oh, sir!" I cried. He only smirked and dipped his head to suck at my neck. I explored his wet skin with a fingertip and shivered with lust. "You're so wet. So open for me."

Mr. Wooster nibbled along my jaw. "I want you so much, Jeeves. I wanted to be ready for you," he told me. "I didn't want to spend any time searching for lubricant, not when you could be debauching the Wooster corpus. Though it was awfully nice when you buggered me with nothing but my own release to ease the way...." He trailed off with a pleased groan as I inserted another finger in him. It met with no resistance. I began thrusting the two fingers in and out of his stretched hole, enjoying the smooth glide of flesh on flesh. Mr. Wooster's hips began moving in time, urging me deeper and faster, until he exclaimed, "Oh, no more teasing, darling. Bugger me!"

I shook my head. "Not yet, Bertie. I want to watch you ride my hand a little longer. You are so beautiful like this." And he was. His hairless torso was flushed red and starting to glisten with sweat. His nipples were pebble hard and begging for my mouth. His handsome face was contorted in bliss, his red lips open and eyes closed as he moved against the fingers in his hole. The skirt he wore tented in the front, pushed forward by the strength of his erection. The sight of him alone was almost enough to bring me to my peak.

Opening his eyes, Mr. Wooster taunted me, "What's the matter, Captain Jeeves? Don't you want to plunder my booty?" He clenched his muscles around my fingers, and my control snapped.

With a growl of his Christian name, I withdrew my fingers and moved both hands to his naked hips. I urged him forward and up, sliding the cleft of his buttocks along my erection until the tip of me was resting against his slick entrance. Before I could pull him downward, Mr. Wooster was taking me in of his own accord. He slid down my shaft quickly, the oil adding to the saliva still coating my prick and allowing for easy entry.

Mr. Wooster did not give me time to adjust to being fully embedded in his tight, hot body. As soon as he had taken me in completely, he was rising again. The muscles of his thighs flexed as he raised and lowered himself over and over again. His rhythm was slow but steady and left me breathless under him.

"Oh, Jeeves!" he cried, throwing his head back in ecstasy. "You're so deep like this." He demonstrated this claim by sinking down on me completely. I could feel the soft skin of his arse pressed hard against my bollocks. He bit his lower lip against a loud cry.

"Don't hold back," I told him in a hoarse, panting voice. "No one can hear you scream but me." I took his hard nipples between my thumbs and forefingers and pinched them, tugging just a little.

"Oh!" he shouted. "Good Lord! Jeeves!" Then he wailed as my cockhead hit his prostate particularly hard.

Leaning forward, Mr. Wooster placed his hands on my shoulders and held me down as he began to ride my cock faster. Passion-fuelled grunts and whimpers fell from his lips, interspersed with wailing moans and blissful cries of my name. Never before had my lover been so unrestrained in his vocalizations during lovemaking. The erotic noises aroused me so much that I doubted my ability to hold off my own orgasm long enough to bring Mr. Wooster to climax before me. I tried to imagine one of my love's elderly aunts naked and writhing atop me in a desperate attempt to stave off my completion. However, I could not get out of my head the sight of Mr. Wooster's sweat-dampened and sex-flushed body moving so sinuously in my lap. "I love you," I found myself telling him earnestly. "Dear God, sir, I love you."

"Love you!" he answered me. "Bugger me, Jeeves! Harder!"

I bent my knees and dug the heels of my boots into the sand for purchase and began lifting my hips to meet his downward thrusts. I could hear our bodies slapping together and the squelch of my prick moving inside him. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to see his tiny, glistening hole stretched around me. "Show me, sir," I beseeched him. My hands went to his waist and pulled ineffectually at the waistband of his skirts. "Let me see."

In one smooth movement, Mr. Wooster threw himself backward and rested against my thighs, one hand tangling in his own hair while the other hand lifted the hem of his skirts. He opened his knees wider and continued to ride me, not quite taking as much of my prick as before but making up for the loss of depth with the increased enthusiasm of his strokes. Between his trembling, spread thighs, I could see my shaft plunging in and out of his body and, above that, his hairless bollocks and long, red prick bobbing in time with his movements. I could only stare with wonder at the sight of my dark shaft, glistening with oil and saliva, as it disappeared over and over into his grasping and eager hole. Releasing his nipples, I used one hand to hold his bollocks out of the way and the other to trace the muscles stretched around my prick. Mr. Wooster moaned wantonly and his movements stuttered before becoming smooth strokes once again.

I threw out the hand I had been using on his testicles and grabbed for Mr. Wooster's discarded hat. I could just reach it from where I lay and dragged it closer to me, plucking the red feather from the band before casting the hat aside once more. I ran the tip of the feather down Mr. Wooster's flushed and sweaty chest, teasing his nipples briefly before lowering it farther. I used the soft edge of the feather to trace the veins in his shaft, covering the thing in the milky fluid leaking from the tip of him in the process. When I lowered the feather even more and used it to tickle his bald testicles, Mr. Wooster's muscles clamped around my shaft and his body bucked. He threw his head back and howled.

"Ooh! Jeeves! Good Lord, man! Don't stop!"

The sensations in my own groin at this were so exquisite that I echoed my master's ecstatic cries. "Oh, sir! Ride me! Don't stop!"

I could feel my body tense in preparation for orgasm and knew I did not have much time left. I threw away the feather and cupped his testicles in my palm again. "Touch your cock," I ordered Mr. Wooster as I rolled that smooth sac in one hand and clutched him around his waist with the other. "Bring yourself off. I want to watch you come on my stomach." I used my grip on him to aid his movements, raising and lowering him on my cock, urging him to fuck himself on me faster and faster. I could tell by the way his cock twitched and leaked more clear fluid every time I sank into him that I was continually striking his prostate. In only seconds, he would be covering me with his semen. "Oh, do it, sir, please!"

The hand in his hair flew to his erection, and Mr. Wooster started stroking himself roughly. "Oh, Jeeves, Jeeves! Jeeves, almost there!"

"Yes, yes," I encouraged him. My hand held him tighter and tighter, until I knew I was going to be leaving bruises on his perfect pale skin. Yet, I could not bring myself to release him. I brought him down sharply again and again, crushing our groins together and pounding that little nub of nerves deep inside, until Mr. Wooster shuddered violently, cried out, and fountained his release onto the black shirt I still wore.

The sight of him in climax, in addition to the feel of his muscles spasming around my flesh, threw me over the peak and into sheer ecstasy. I joined in Mr. Wooster's orgasmic shouts, yelling my love for him without fear of who might be listening for the first time in my life. I thrust hard into him, lifting both of us off the sandy beach. I poured myself into him -- heart, soul, and seed -- and nearly wept with the intensity of my joy.

We strained against each other for long moments. Our hips kept moving in rhythm until Mr. Wooster fell forward onto my chest, utterly exhausted and panting heavily. I wrapped my arms around his naked back and held him tightly until our shaking subsided.

As I stroked his smooth shoulders and back, I could feel Mr. Wooster relax against me. My own erection softened and I lifted his hips just enough to slip from his body. Exhaustion from the long trip and our emotionally energetic lovemaking combined to defeat any attempt to remain conscious. We fell asleep in the bright sunshine with the sound of the ocean caressing our ears.


I could hear my name being whispered from what seemed to be a very long way off. I struggled to open my eyes against the dazzling sunlight only to find Mr. Wooster's handsome face looming over mine. He smiled and kissed me gently before pressing his lips against my ear.

"The water looks very inviting, old thing," he said. "Would you care for a swim?"

He sat up and I saw he was still wearing the remains of his costume. I smiled a little at the sight of him, straddling my hips and wearing nothing but a short skirt and knee-length boots. He blushed a little under my warm regard.

"I suppose I look quite ridiculous," he said as he fumbled at the skirt's fastening. "Probably a silly chance to take, being half naked and debauched out on a beach, what? If anyone came by, they'd be disgusted by the picture the old Wooster corpus makes."

At times, Mr. Wooster requires the same reassurance that I do. I stilled his fidgeting hands with one of my own and cupped his cheek with the other.

"You are beautiful, sir, and will always be so to me," I said. "Especially after our lovemaking. You are every fantasy I have ever had. Nothing you do or say could ever be regarded as silly or disgusting. I love you, sir."

At that, his features relaxed and he bent to kiss me thoroughly, his tongue sliding over and around my own. I felt my body stir in response to him, and I knew he felt it, too. He planted his hands on the sand on either side of my head and grinned at me.

"Before we start rolling round on the beach again, what about a bit of a swim?" he asked. "Then you can let me have my way with you again."

"Your way with me?" I said, smiling back at him. "We shall see about that."

He rolled off me then and pulled off one of his long boots. The other boot came off easily and he tossed that aside, along with the skirt. He stood naked before me then, his hairless body firm and proud, and covered now in sand. He raised his long arms above his head and stretched, and I could hear vertebrae pop. I also caught a glimpse of the mess between his buttocks. I felt a throb of arousal in my groin, as I always did when I saw my own seed leaking from his body. It was a visual reminder that he was mine and appealed to me at a primal level.

Mr. Wooster dropped his arms and looked over his shoulder at me. I stood and returned the easy smile he gave me. For a moment, I thought he would draw me into his arms and kiss me again, but he didn't. "Last one in is a rotten egg!" he yelled and sprinted for the water.

Once again, I could do nothing but follow him. In truth, there was nothing else I would have done, even given the opportunity. I divested myself of my own ruined costume and went after him.

The water felt like warm silk against my skin. Mr. Wooster was already in the water up to his waist when he turned around and beckoned me to him.

"Come on, Jeeves!" he shouted. "The water's lovely!"

And so are you, I thought, suddenly happier than I had ever been in my life. I waded toward him, splashing water on my arms and chest to rid myself of the sand that had crept into my clothing and stuck to my body. The salt water felt invigorating, and I had an incredible urge to taste it on my lover's skin.

Mr. Wooster submerged himself as I reached him, but stood upright within seconds. He lifted his arms to run his fingers through his soaking hair, and I watched, transfixed, as the water sluiced down his hairless chest. He had no idea of his own beauty, of his own perfect form. I didn't resist the urge to take him into my arms and press my mouth against the wet skin of his neck.

Mr. Wooster sighed, his pleasure in my touch obvious. He wound his arms around my neck and pulled me toward him, urging me to move deeper into the water. He stopped when the gentle waves lapped at our chests and placed his wet hand on my face and looked at me intently, as if trying to memorize my nondescript features. He smiled gently, then pressed his lips to mine. His mouth opened to accept my invading tongue, and soon the tiny moans of pleasure that I never tired of hearing issued from the back of his throat. I slid my hands down his slick back to his buttocks, the warm water making his skin feel as smooth as glass. His hips twitched as I stroked them, and he twisted his body in an attempt to feel my hands against the bare skin surrounding his manhood.

I slid one hand between his legs and caressed his scrotum, my mouth swallowing an especially loud groan. He pushed himself against me, his movements desperate and needy. I would have taken him then and there, in that wonderfully warm surf, but I suddenly wanted to have him laid out in front of me on our wonderfully soft bed.

I pulled my my mouth away from his, ignoring his moan of displeasure. "Sir," I said against his ear, "there is a rather large and serviceable bed in the house. I would like to make love to you there, in a place where we have all the time and comfort we need to savor and love one another."

Mr. Wooster bit my shoulder, then soothed the sting with his busy tongue. "How could I say no to that? But promise me, Jeeves, that we will make love in the water at least once before we leave. You feel absolutely corking against me out here."

"In the moonlight, perhaps?" I asked. "I would enjoy seeing your wet skin under the light of the full moon."

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"Then let us return to the house, sir. I will prepare us a light repast while you bathe. And then I shall eat it off your stomach." I kissed him on the the tip of his nose, noticing it was slightly pink from the sun. "It is time to go inside at any rate, sir. We must guard against sunburn since your fair skin is unaccustomed to the sun's intensity."

We waded back toward the shore, taking our time and deliberately talking about everything but what we intended to do with each other once we reached the cottage. We gathered the shreds of our costumes as well as the rapiers and entered the small foyer. It was much cooler there, and I wasted no time in directing Mr. Wooster toward the bathroom. I pulled on the dressing gown that I had hung behind the door and drew a warm bath for my lover.

Once he was settled, I kissed his cheek and made my way to the kitchen. I filled a large bucket with warm water, and, using some of the soap flakes meant for the washing up, proceeded to scrub off the sand and sticky film the salt water had left on my skin. When this was done, I donned my dressing gown once more and proceeded to peel and slice the vast variety of fruit we had stopped to purchase on our way to the secluded little house. With the ease of long practice, I prepared mangoes, cantaloupe, pineapple and oranges. I then mixed a fruit punch that I knew would restore us after spending so much time in the hot Cuban sun.

I arranged a tray and carried it into the bedroom, depositing it on the bedside table. Mr. Wooster was still in the bathroom, and I hoped he hadn't fallen asleep in the tub. I entered the small room quietly, not wishing to startle him. He was no longer in the tub but was standing beside it, wincing as he tried to move his arms.

"Jeeves," he said. "My back hurts a bit. I'm not sure what's wrong."

He turned around to show me. His skin was flushed an angry pink from his shoulders to his waist, with the exception of what looked like two large hand prints in the middle of his back. I wanted to laugh, but didn't have the heart to do so. I had been sunburned on several occasions and knew how uncomfortable it could be.

"Sir, it appears you have a slight sunburn. If you will allow me, I will fetch some leaves of the aloe vera plant that is growing outside the front door."

"Jeeves, I'm not sure how a bally plant will help, but if it will, then I'm all for it."

I nodded. "Please excuse me for a moment, sir."

I cut several large leaves and hurried back to Mr. Wooster. He was standing naked beside the bed now, still trying to flex his arms.

"This isn't much fun, this sunburn thingummy," he said. His expression was apologetic. "I'm sorry, Jeeves. I know we wanted to make love, but I think my back hurts too much to lay on it."

"Never fear, sir," I said, keeping my own disappointment at bay. "The substance secreted by the aloe vera plant should soothe most of the sting. And," I said, taking him gently into my arms, "we have two weeks in which to make love. An evening of abstinence will only make us desire each other more.

"Now," I said, letting him go before he felt the rise of my desire against his thighs, "if you will lay down on your stomach, sir, I will apply the aloe vera to your sunburn."

Mr. Wooster lay carefully face down on the middle of the bed. His skin had reddened even more and was now the color of a newly ripe tomato. "Oh, sir," I breathed in sympathy, for I knew how painful the sunburn must be.

"It's not that bad, Jeeves," my master assured me as he settled his cheek on his folded hands. However, the tension around his eyes belied his words.

Quickly, I squeezed the aloe vera leaves I held until the clear gel inside filled my palm. Discarding the leaves, I climbed onto the bed and straddled Mr. Wooster's thighs. With smooth, light touches, I spread the cool gel over his back. He sighed blissfully under my hands.

"Oh, that feels bally wonderful!" he exclaimed, with a pleased wiggle.

"I am glad the sensation is a pleasant one." I continued to work the soothing gel into his skin until he glistened and I found my hands wandering down toward his tempting buttocks. My fingers delved between the halves and barely touched his anus.

"Oh," Mr. Wooster exclaimed again, and this time, his voice held a different note. He sounded slightly breathless and not a little aroused. With difficulty, I removed my hands from those firm globes of flesh and sat back on my heels. "Does that--" I had to break off and swallow hard a few times until I could speak without the low growl of desire in my voice. "Does that meet with your satisfaction, sir?"

"It would have if you hadn't stopped, Jeeves, you blasted tease!" he cried.

I could not help myself. I laughed quietly and playfully slapped my hand against one buttock. Mr. Wooster moaned under me and wiggled once more. As tantalizing as that was to behold, I forced myself to turn my attention to the plate of fruit sitting on our bedside table. "Would you care for some fruit, sir?"

"I'd care for you to put those fingers inside me."

My erection throbbed behind the material of my dressing gown, and I almost cupped myself before I remembered the gel on my hands. Leaning over the edge of the bed, I picked up Mr. Wooster's bath towel from where he had dropped it on the floor and wiped myself clean. After untying my dressing gown and allowing my erection to rise against my stomach unhindered, I reached for the platter of fruit. I picked up a juicy chunk of pineapple and held it before my lover's lips. "But, sir," I said. "The morning's exertions have surely left you parched. Some fruit and punch would restore you." I rubbed the bit of pineapple against his lips. His tongue emerged, licking the juice from his skin, then he nibbled the bit from my fingers.

Mr. Wooster hummed in appreciation as he chewed the pineapple. "That is bally marvellous," he said after he finally swallowed the tit-bit.

"Yes, sir. The fruit here far surpasses what is available in England." I picked up a piece of mango and fed it to him, pleased at how he seemed to be enjoying the treat. This continued for some minutes, me alternating between feeding him and myself until we were both quite covered in juice and he was sucking my fingers more often than he was eating.

Finally, I could resist the temptation no longer and bent forward to taste his sticky lips against my own. His tongue eagerly met mine and we kissed deeply. I let the passion carry me away and leaned too far forward, putting pressure on my lover's burned back. He gasped against my mouth in pain. I pulled away and immediately apologised.

Mr. Wooster hastened to reassure me that he was fine. "But as I said before, darling, I'm afraid the lovemaking will have to wait," he said sadly.

I smiled at him fondly. "Not at all, sir. You'll just have to remain on your stomach. Or, perhaps, on your hands and knees...?" I lifted one eyebrow and allowed my lips to quirk into a sly smile. Mr. Wooster grinned and began to scramble into position. I moved off his legs and allowed him to kneel before me. As soon as he was situated, I spread his buttocks and applied my tongue to his hole.

The taste of the aloe vera plant ruined my enjoyment of my master's skin. I resisted the urge to spit the foul taste from my mouth and reached instead for an especially juicy orange slice. Squeezing it gently between my fingers, I let the tangy juice drip down Mr. Wooster's spine and into the cleft of his buttocks, washing away the residue of the aloe vera. I dropped the pulpy remains onto his orifice and pressed it slightly inside him. Mr. Wooster shivered. Whether it was from arousal or the cold fruit on sensitive skin, I did not know. Before the orange could warm to his body temperature, I bowed my head and ate it off his skin.

"Oh, Lord, Jeeves!" Mr. Wooster cried out. His hands clenched in the bed clothes and his knuckles whitened as I licked up all traces of the juice, slipping my tongue inside him several times as I did so. When his skin was clean, I reached for a piece of cantaloupe and repeated the process. Then again with a mango. Then again with another orange slice. As I reached for another piece of fruit, Mr. Wooster broke.

"Dammit, Jeeves!" he yelled. "Enough! Bugger me already!" He was shaking and gleaming with sweat. Every muscle in his body clenched and released with the motion of my tongue on and inside him.

By this time, my own prick was urgently demanding release, so I was eager to oblige him. However, I was lacking a crucial necessity. "Sir, the oil is still--"

"To hell with the oil, Jeeves, just fuck me!"

My lover very rarely uses such vulgar terms in describing our coupling. That he did so then only illustrated how eager he was for my cock inside him. My hips jerked of their own volition at the sheer lust that slammed through my body. I found myself clutching Mr. Wooster's hips and grinding my arousal against his buttocks. "Sir! Oh, sir," I moaned. "When you say such things, I lose all control."

"Good," he returned, his voice rough with lust. "I want you now, Jeeves! Please!"

It is true that I have taken Mr. Wooster with minimal lubrication on previous occasions. In fact, the last time that he donned the costume of a female, I made quite vigorous love to him with nothing but his own come to slick my way. However, I have never had him without something to make our joining easy and pleasant for us both. With Mr. Wooster on his knees before me and begging for my cock, though, I came perilously close to just shoving my way inside him and damning the consequences.

In the end, reason prevailed. I left the bed to shed my dressing gown and retrieve the used aloe vera leaves, much to Mr. Wooster's discontent. I was behind him once more before he could finish his complaint and squeezed the leaves over him until the cleft of his arse was filled with the clear gel. I quickly prepared him with two fingers thrust into his hole, then coated myself in the aloe. "Spread wider for me, sir," I rasped. Mr. Wooster spread his knees wider, and I fit my groin to his backside.

I thought briefly of teasing him, of brushing just the head of my cock against his puckered opening until he was sobbing and pleading for me to bugger him, but I knew that I did not currently have the self-control for that. Instead, I fit the head to his hole and pushed with my hips, breaching him and sliding completely inside in one stroke.

Under me, Mr. Wooster groaned and dropped his head and shoulders to the bed. "Yes, yes," he chanted as his fingers clenched and unclenched in the sheets. "Oh, it's so good! Love having you in me, Jeeves."

"Love you," I gasped in return and began to fuck.

Mr. Wooster was still loose from our earlier activities on the beach and from my tongue inside him only moments before. Therefore, I felt no hesitation in beginning with a hard and fast rhythm designed to bring us both to a quick climax. Mr. Wooster took up the rhythm eagerly and thrust back against me with wild cries of pleasure. From long years of practice, I knew that this was a good angle for him and aimed slightly downwards in order to hit against his prostate on every thrust. He greatly appreciated this and began swearing in a most ungentlemanly way.

The vulgarities falling from his normally sweet and polite lips made me ache for orgasm. I could feel my testicles draw up in preparation and knew it would not be much longer. I reached around his right hip and slid my hand up his inner thigh until I could cup his own smooth and hairless testicles in my palm. I rolled them there for a few seconds before moving my hand to his shaft. The hot skin was slick with his pre-ejaculate, and I used that fluid as lubricant for quick, tight strokes of my fist. In under a minute, Mr. Wooster stiffened and clenched his muscles as orgasm overtook him and his come covered my fist.

It is difficult to put into words the exquisite pleasure of being inside my lover as he finds release. His body tightens around me almost to the point of causing me pain. The clutch of his muscles in addition to the guttural grunts and groans that he voices is often enough to send me into my own release, as it was this time. With Mr. Wooster coating my hand in his semen, I threw my head back and moaned his name to the ceiling as the ecstasy swelled inside me and finally burst in an orgasm so intense that I nearly lost consciousness from the force of it.

Just as I began to fill Mr. Wooster with my seed, his knees abruptly gave out and he crashed to the bed. I was not quick enough in following him down, and my cock was ripped from his body. My hips thrust against the air twice before I had the presence of mind to wrap a hand around myself and milk my prick through the rest of my climax. Though my hand was not as satisfying as being buried balls-deep in Mr. Wooster's tight body, my climax raged through me, leaving me shaking and mewling my lover's name. White fluid showered down onto Mr. Wooster's buttocks and thighs, the sight of which caused more bolts of lust to shoot through my body.

As I came down from the blissful high, I fell forward, catching myself on one hand next to Mr. Wooster's head so that I did not fall against his burned skin and cause him pain. I gasped for breath and blinked rapidly to clear my fuzzy vision. I surveyed Mr. Wooster's semen-streaked skin with pride and possessive lust. He looked absolutely beautiful with my white fluid decorating his red flesh. I felt a pang of regret, however, that none of the fluid had been released within him. With my free hand, I guided my prick over Mr. Wooster's trembling buttocks, gathering my come on its head. Then, I spread his buttocks with my fingers and forced my shrinking erection back into his hole, pushing my seed deep within him where it belonged. Mr. Wooster sighed happily, as if he, too, had missed having my come inside him.

I remained joined with Mr. Wooster for another minute, rocking my hips against his to prolong the feelings of ecstasy, until I could no longer hold myself up. I withdrew from him and fell to his side, exhausted and drenched in sweat from my exertions. It was a long time before either of us could move.

Eventually, I rolled onto my side, facing Mr. Wooster, who still lay on his stomach, his eyes closed. His burned back was still an angry red, but what continued to draw my attention was the smeared evidence of my passion that still coated his buttocks and thighs. Between my drying semen and the residue of the fruit I'd eaten off his body, my lover was a beautiful mess. I smiled softly in both pride at a job well done and joy at the knowledge that no one but me had ever seen my master in such a state.

Despite my exhaustion, I found myself wanting to lick him clean. However, I pushed aside the primal desire and made to rise from the bed to get a damp towel, but Mr. Wooster's sleepy voice arrested me.

"Where do you think you're going, Jeeves?"

I placed my palm on his sticky buttock. "You require attention, sir, before this dries any further."

"Sod all," he said vulgarly and grinned at me. "Does it really matter?"

I thought for only the briefest of seconds. "No, sir, it does not," I said.

"Then do me a favor and come back to bed," he said, closing his eyes once more. "I wish to sleep in your arms, Captain Jeeves."

I lay back down beside him and pulled his limp body across my chest, taking extra care with his burned skin. His pressed his ear against my heart and sighed. "You protected your beach well, Captain Jeeves, and you've captured the heart of the Dread Pirate Wooster."

I kissed the top of his head. "But you captured mine years ago, sir. I believe that makes us even."

Mr. Wooster snuggled himself more closely against me and wrapped one arm around my waist. "I love you, Jeeves. And I do hope you're enjoying your birthday gift."

I had to blink several times to clear the moisture that suddenly clouded my vision. Though I knew Mr. Wooster's heart belonged to me, I still found it difficult at times to believe my luck. This generous, beautiful man was more than my lover; he was the other half of my soul. And suddenly the trip didn't matter. What mattered was holding him in my arms, soothing his hurts, making love with him, no matter where we were.

"More than you know, Bertie," I said, trying and failing to keep the quaver from my voice. "I love you."

Mr. Wooster hugged me close and planted a kiss on my chest before turning his gaze on me. His brilliant blue eyes were warm with affection. "I love you, too, Reggie." He paused for a moment. "I had a fishing trip planned for tomorrow. That is, if you want to go."

"I would enjoy that," I said. "Have you hired a crew?"

He nodded.

"Un-hire them," I said as I gently trailed my fingers down his back to his messy buttocks. "You are all the crew I require."

His grin, beautiful and wide, dazzled me. "Aye, aye, Captain Jeeves. Shall I be your first mate?"

I pulled him close and kissed him. "My only mate," I said against his lips. "Forever."



( 62 comments — Leave a comment )
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Jun. 26th, 2009 02:44 am (UTC)
*looks down at keyboard, now covered in ash* yes, this fic was THAT hot, I simply sat here reading it with gasper dangling from my lips completely disregarded, so engrossed was I by this fic. Somehow you manage to combine kink and wodehouse and have it work-and you managed to hit upon damn near every kink I can think of that doesn't go way far out into WTF land. This is just an amazingly written fic, and I absolutely love the playful!Jeeves who's more than just the staid valet, and willing to kick back and have a spot of fun when no one's looking.

And you managed to find a way to have beach sex without the pesky sand getting everywhere and making things considerably more painful than they need to be.
Jun. 26th, 2009 07:46 pm (UTC)
If I smoked, I seriously suspect I'd be in the same predicament!
(no subject) - storyfan - Jun. 28th, 2009 04:35 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - waqaychay - Jun. 27th, 2009 06:22 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 26th, 2009 02:57 am (UTC)
Sweet and sexy, very well done! <3
Jun. 27th, 2009 06:20 pm (UTC)
thank you so much! :D
Jun. 26th, 2009 03:54 am (UTC)
Wow! This is lovely! Cute and hot. The role playing is so nice. You appeal to my love for all things to do with Sea, ships and boats.
Jun. 27th, 2009 06:20 pm (UTC)
thank you! we're so glad we hit on something you really love. :D
Jun. 26th, 2009 04:14 am (UTC)
My timbers, they have been shivered. Beautiful.
Jun. 26th, 2009 05:26 am (UTC)
You made me laugh.
Here, have a sweet.
(no subject) - storyfan - Jun. 27th, 2009 05:13 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - waqaychay - Jun. 27th, 2009 06:18 pm (UTC) - Expand
(Deleted comment)
Jun. 27th, 2009 06:11 pm (UTC)
More? You'll have to give us some ideas. And here's a mop for that puddle. Thanks so much for reading.
(no subject) - waqaychay - Jun. 27th, 2009 06:24 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - storyfan - Jun. 27th, 2009 06:49 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - waqaychay - Jun. 27th, 2009 06:15 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 26th, 2009 05:25 am (UTC)
*fans* Good Lord! That was...wel... "hot" doesn't even do it justice.
"Oh, captain, my captain," Hahaha Hooray for Whitman references!
Aw! And the last line! That was so so so excellent!

You guys did superbly on this :) Thank you!
Jun. 27th, 2009 06:10 pm (UTC)
The Whitman reference was all waqaychay's idea and it fit perfectly. Thanks for the compliments. I'll tell you, this was tons of fun to write. We take turns doing sections, and the fun is not knowing what the other will do. Then we play off each other's sections.
(no subject) - waqaychay - Jun. 27th, 2009 06:14 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 26th, 2009 12:28 pm (UTC)
This was wonderful :D
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:53 pm (UTC)
thank you! we're glad you liked it! :D
Jun. 26th, 2009 12:56 pm (UTC)
Sweet Eros and his daughter Hedone I am MELTING.
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:53 pm (UTC)
*lol* thanks! ;D
(no subject) - storyfan - Jun. 27th, 2009 06:06 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 26th, 2009 03:50 pm (UTC)
Ladies, you both rock! :-)
Of course, it was a great mistake to read it during my working hours, but I really couldn't resist the temptation :-)
And my favourite bit is:
*He enjoys the chase, loves being caught, and adores submitting to me. His desire for submission, however, in no way compromises his masculinity. His striking features, his slim, wiry frame, his beautiful and kind heart, and his insatiable desire for me combine to make him the most intoxicating man I have ever known. And he loves me as I love him, with a fierce and tender passion.*
The essence of jooster! *happy sigh* :-)
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:53 pm (UTC)
thanks! :D

that's one of my favourite lines, too, and it's all storyfan. she's brilliant, i tell you.
(no subject) - sige_vic - Jun. 27th, 2009 08:02 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - storyfan - Jun. 28th, 2009 08:08 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 26th, 2009 07:15 pm (UTC)

That was so hot, so sweet and so amazing. Thank you.
From VenusInRetrograde xxx
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:52 pm (UTC)
thank you! i'm glad you enjoyed it. :D
Jun. 26th, 2009 07:48 pm (UTC)
OMGWTFBBQPDQ! *muppet flailing engaged*

*standing ovation*
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:51 pm (UTC)
hahaha! i love enthusiastic comment flailing. ;D thanks, babe!
Jun. 26th, 2009 10:35 pm (UTC)
Eee! So hot and so beautiful at the same time! I love their relationship, I really do. (And I'll admit I probably love cross-dressing Bertie more than I should, dear lord. I may have to have a go at drawing Dread Pirate Wooster, if no one objects. ^_^)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just be over there melting into a happy little puddle.
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:14 am (UTC)
I, for one, do not object. Thank you for all the wonderful compliments.
(no subject) - waqaychay - Jun. 27th, 2009 05:51 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 26th, 2009 11:42 pm (UTC)
I require a cold shower. NOW. And it isn't because of the summer heat. Good job here you both. Very good *insert Jeeves' voice here*. Yep, I'm off for a shower and then for sleep. I hope I have merry dreams tonight... Afwully sorry I have nothing more to say but my brain took their leave at the sight of your icon at indeedsir.
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:50 pm (UTC)
*LOL* thank you! i hope you had good dreams indeed. :DD
Jun. 27th, 2009 03:01 pm (UTC)
Still makes my brain melt.

What really gets me is even though the sex is super-hot, the chaps really show quite a lot of affection for one another. I eat that up with a spoon.
Jun. 27th, 2009 05:49 pm (UTC)
:D me, too! i love loving hot sex. glad you enjoyed it, babe!
(no subject) - feanix - Jun. 28th, 2009 09:17 am (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 28th, 2009 09:17 am (UTC)
Good Lord...

What have we here?

Bertie hairless and in drag (again!)? Check.
A booty joke? Check.
A parodied line from a Whitman poem? Check.
Possessive and dominating Jeeves? Check.
Messy sex with one of the boys coming on the other? Check and check.

You have to be happy with that. Great show, old thing...Two thousand thumbs up for the long-awaited pirate fic.
Jun. 28th, 2009 08:05 pm (UTC)
This was a blast to write. The booty joke just had to be made - that was waqaychay's idea. Glad you enjoyed this little tale.
(no subject) - feanix - Jun. 29th, 2009 12:21 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - waqaychay - Jul. 3rd, 2009 04:47 am (UTC) - Expand
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