Means and Ends
Nov. 15th, 2010 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trista_zevkiaTitle: Agatha's Means and Endings
Author: Trista_zevkia
Chapter: 2/3
Fandom: Wodehouse
Characters/Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: SLASH
Summary: Aunt A. hires some hit men to get rid of Jeeves. Bertie takes this with much naked wrestling=)
Disclaimer: All monies made will go to seducing people to the world of Wodehouse, even if it means making them watch the Fry and Laurie DVD’s.
Author's Notes: I started out the fic below with Jeeves thinking Agatha might have him killed. This is the requested followup, part of the Yuletide fic exchange at IndeedSir.
Chapter 1
Reginald got me worked up about her retribution, but in the five days since I haven’t even heard Aunt A’s name in conversations with other relations. Sulking at Easeby, I shouldn’t wonder. Most of the relations and even the Drones are avoiding the cold snap that’s buried the metrop in snow, so we’ve had a wonderful time.
I consider it a honeymoon in my mind, but I’m careful not to say that out loud. If I did, Reginald would point out that most honeymoons include travel and ask where I wanted to go. I didn’t want to go anywhere, just snuggle into the warmth of his arms. Now he insists he has to go shopping, tripe I don’t believe for a second about not having any food in the flat!
Claims he even cooked all the tinned things we had in an effort to prolong this togetherness and had some stuff delivered. Then he started in about how one had to be extra careful when picking produce outside of the natural growing seasons. When I returned from my memories of the way his whole body trembled when I lashed Little Jeeves just so, he was in his coat by the front door.
“Truly, Bertram, I would not leave this bliss if it was not necessary.” He slips out of the flat before I can find my feet, rush over to him and thank him for that statement.
My thanks might also have delayed his departure even more than my complaining, which is probably why he fled like that. Once I get over my disappointment, I toss on my coat and go to twirl the whangee.
There’s this clothier in the smarter part of the Metrop that I hope Jeeves never visits. It’s where I find some of the fruiter things he disapproves of so, and I avoid the more garish stuff in this place! I think if Jeeves stumbled into this shop he’d be able to destroy the place with an eyebrow and the magic word.
Indeed, he would say, and the whole building would turn to dust while the cloth bits became balls of fire. A gentle cough from a sheep, informing his shepherd he has seen wolf scat, and the fires would be put out as the remains floated away on the breeze. As impressive as it would be to see, I can’t imagine explaining it to the shop owner or the policeman, so it was better it didn’t happen.
After making my purchases there, I always take a careful look around before emerging. And what to my wondering eye should appear today but a spot of gloriousness in a bowler hat! When he’s far enough down the street, I slip out after him.
I’m not sure what he’s doing here, as they don’t have a great deal of produce on this street, but he’s got a flattish, long box sticking out of his pocket. I follow him down another street, until I’m sure he wouldn’t think I was at the shop I was at. As he shimmered his way toward the flat, I had a need to do something stupid.
He was just far too prim, proper and perfect for this wintery day, with all this snow hanging around. Reginald wasn’t even hunched down in his upturned coat collar like the rest of us! The parcel is soft, so it fits under my left arm securely, should I need freedom to use my hands. I look up from packing the snowball and see a large man in a grey coat stomping towards Jeeves, but no other obstacles. I launch the snowball and miss entirely!
The grey coat man wasn’t that close, but I still managed to splatter snow against his head. A startled, but not so you’d notice, Jeeves graciously bends to retrieve the fedora I’d knocked off. I’m frozen in embarrassment until I see a flash of silver in the man’s hand. I shake my head to clear it even as I move in to apologize. I was reading too many detective novels if I thought it was a knife in his hand! Probably a bit of light off of his watch.
The man snatches his hat out of Jeeves’ hand, turns back the way he had come and stomps off. Not even a word of thanks before he was gone and I was standing behind Jeeves without an explanation of what I’d just done. Jeeves was normally more aware of my presence than I was, so I feel weird when I have to call attention to myself.
“Jeeves?” He turns away from where the man was last visible to look at me with half an eyebrow raised.
“Sir, did you need anything particular while I was out shopping?” I don’t know how I resist nibbling that stuffed frog off of him, probably only because my lips are numb.
“I was just out for a walk, stretching the gams and whatnot. You got a lot left to do?”
“Yes Sir. I have seen to the delivery of the replacement tinned goods and staples such as flour and sugar. I also arranged for a delivery of choice meats tomorrow morning. I have yet to select any produce, wines or spices.”
“Thorough as ever Jeeves! But it’s almost tea time and my lips are icicles. Pick a tea shop, and it’ll be my treat, my good man.” I say that last in my most pompous tone, one perfected from generations of having servants, and it doesn’t even get an eyebrow twitch.
“I had intended to return to the flat in time to prepare your tea, Sir.” I blink and take a quick look around before I reply without moving my frozen lips.
“I was asking you to step out with me, not complaining about your performance. Your p. has certainly been tip-top, especially since the 28th.” A touch of color graces his cheekbones, which I choose to believe has more to do with my words than the weather.
“Forgive me, Sir. I simply do not wish to be derelict in my duties.”
“All’s forgiven, now let’s go grab some grub!” That gets him, and I can see it even before he replies.
“Grub, Sir?” He turns and leads the way even as he speaks. “Are you implying you wish to eat grubs, worms and other invertebrates?”
“Invertawhatsits? No, I’m sure I’m only interested in devouring one particular invert.” Jeeves turns wide eyes on me at that, but nobody was close enough to overhear so I pretend innocence. He recovers swiftly, you have to give him that, and he even found a new subject to talk about while recovering.
“Sir, may I ask what you purchased during your walk?”
“Only if you tell me what you bought, don’t think I didn’t see it sticking out of your pocket.” I give him a moment to consider but we round a corner and find a new subject.
“Sir, this is a tea shop I can recommend for a well prepared high tea.”
“Set us up with a table, Jeeves!” He does so and we fall back into the master and servant wheeze we’ve done for the last two years.
Idle chattering about nothing important, comparing his Shakespeare to my Zane Grey and how the relations seem to be doing. He’s just fixed my tea the way I like it when this short bloke in a dark brown overcoat and white fedora bumps into the table. He’s got this thick American accent, not enough like New York to make me think that’s where he’s from, but close.
“So sorry, I’ve been a bit clumsy since I’s got here.” He shakes my hand as he says this and I wonder when the American’s started adding ‘s’ to ‘I.’ He turns to give Jeeves the flattery and I feel something new. “You’s Brits have been most understandin’ abouts it, most kind. That revolution? No hard feelings, right?”
He biffs off and Jeeves watches him go. Jeeves looks deep in thought, though I can’t imagine over what. I consider what I felt while watching that man talk with Jeeves. Best I can figure, I wanted to tell that guy to leave, as Jeeves was mine! I don’t know if I’ve always been possessive, but I’ve never had someone that meant so much to me before. Maybe I will take Jeeves on a proper honeymoon, or at least to Anatole so Jeeves won’t have to cook so much. I can think of better uses for his hands, but not while I’m in a tea shop.
“I say Jeeves! That man, he talks like Anatole, that gangster English he picked up from films.”
“An interesting observations, Sir.”
I delve into the pastry before me, glowing with the complement, or what I chose to see as a complement anyway. I’m reaching absent mindedly for my teacup when a large hand prevents me. Startled at this touch in public, I focus on Jeeves.
“Sir, I think the tea has been improperly prepared. I am afraid I must insist on ordering a new pot.” I give him a confused look, but he motions for the waitress.
He gives her a line about the teapot needing to be cleaned and his request for a new pot. She buys it and scampers off to get the new tea. Jeeves’s eyes flicker toward the American and back to me. Before I can ask he gives me a soft whisper with stiff lips. “Sir, I will explain later.”
I shrug, accepting his judgment on all things not sartorial, and wonder what feast Anatole is making tonight. When we depart a while later, he hands back the package I’d left at the table. He’s made me promise to return to the flat before the temperature drops even further with the approaching night, but it’s the contents of the package that make me want to run there!
I make things ready to welcome the hard working man home and pull out a good book to lie on my bed and read. I’d listen to the wireless but I want to be able to hear his return. To that end I might have left my whangee propped up against the front door, where it couldn’t help but fall when the door was opened. When I hear the scrape and clatter, and I call out.
“Jeeves, is that you?”
“Yes Sir. I am sorry to disturb you, but I did not expect your walking stick to be against the door.”
“Terribly sorry, old thing. Must have forgotten to put it up when I came in.”
“No harm was done, Sir.”
“Say Jeeves, when you have a minute, could you come in here? Strange word in my book I need defining.” I expect him to come running to his young master’s aid, regardless of what else he has to do, and I’m not disappointed. He probably removed his hat and coat while wondering about the whangee, so he’d be in his uniform when he saw me.
Now, I don’t pretend to be a marvel of a physical specimen but he seemed to like me and that was all I needed. Still, I wanted to do something that might please him while hiding the strange boney yet flabby look I was prone to. The silk pajamas I’d bought were a bright red with large white flowers, the Hawaiian pattern according to the shopkeeper.
The thick white dressing gown with stripes of orange, was rather warm, so I had it artfully draped over my gangly form. Both had white, so they should match well enough for even sartorially hidebound Jeeves. All of these bits had been purchased for his larger frame, so I was practically drowning in the silky stuff.
When he opened my bedroom door, I was on my side and facing him, one shoulder bared to the world. I tried to look seductive as I grinned up at him, but I couldn’t swear his reaction was appreciation and not shock. Unsure of how my presentation was going over, I looked away from his face and saw the package he’d bought was now in the pocket of his morning coat.
“So Reginald, what do you think of the new togs?”
“They seem to be a bit big for you Sir. I could return them and select something different if you like.”
“Not for me, you just have to get them off before you can have them.” He likes that, I can tell by the tiny bit of tongue that darts foreword to moisten his lower lip!
“I really should organize the kitchen and prepare supper, Bertram.” He’s trying to be professional but the use of my name shows what he wants to be doing, namely me!
“So you don’t want my gift? The one that belongs to you, and only you, for all time?” I try to look as sad as one of those French dogs with the ears that drag on the ground.
I don’t know which worked, but he’s pulling off his morning coat and tie as he walks toward me. All sadness, put on or not, disappears as he reaches me. A heavy dose of kissing and I forget what sadness is! I’ve kissed bezels, relations or fiancés, but none of them readied me for kissing Reginald. Like everything he does, it’s beyond perfect! If I might be brutally honest, kissing Reginald is like having sex with your mouth.
The hands trailing down my chest, slowly undoing one button at a time added a touch of somethingness to the proceedings. Reginald pulls away from the kiss to apply his mouth to my nipples, and my mouth is lonely. In a moment of mad inspiration, I figure out a way to keep my mouth and cock happy.
“Reginald, Love, lay on your back.”
“Bertram?” He questions me without leaving my nipple, so I’m grinning as I stroke a hand through his hair.
“On your back, it’s my turn to try something new.” Saying that is easy, but not pulling him back down is rather difficult.
With his wonderfully rumpled hair and swollen lips, he’s beyond beautiful. I do wonder when he got rid of his clothes as well as mine, but my idea distracts me. I crawl upward until Little Wooster is even with Jeeves’s talented mouth, and straddled his head. I don’t lower myself too much, as I want him to be able to breathe, but he understands my idea. Before I can even get Little Jeeves in my mouth, he’s adjusting my legs until I’m close enough to his face. Once there, Little Wooster gets the attention he’s grown rather fond of lately.
This position is like a never ending chain of pleasure, as we feed off of each other until something has to give. My arms and legs give out before I’m out of that wave of bliss, but Reginald rolls us over. When he turns around so our heads are together, he curls up around me. I smile at him and try to think of something to say. When I wake up, he’s left the room and something tantalizing is wafting out of the kitchen.
A moment or two to change and I go to talk with him while he works. Maybe, if I’m lucky, he’ll let me help. On the way to the kitchen, I notice the dining room table is set for two, including the package I noticed sticking out of his pocket earlier today. Was that only today? The world feels weird when you wake up after dark. Before I can sort that out, he slides out of the kitchen with a large covered tray.
“I trust you slept well, Bertram?”
“Sorry about that, Love. I was going to ask if you liked your gift.” The food is on the table, so he turns back to me to pull out my chair. If I’d been thinking about it, I would have sat without making him do that for me. I get a kiss on my forehead as a reward for sitting, so it’s not too important.
“I very much enjoyed unwrapping my present, and look forward to future unveilings.” He’s dishing up the food as I work that out.
“Not me, the pajamas! Aren’t they something? I would have bought a matching set, but the shopkeeper was already confused that I was buying a gift for someone I didn’t know the size of. Told him it was a late Christmas gift for my uncle. If he can figure out which aunt’s husband I might have been talking about in order to ask said uncle if he likes them, then I’ll worry. Never thought having a lot of aunts would turn out favorable for me!”
“An unanticipated benefit of a large family, Bertram. The shopkeeper is unlikely to be curious enough to pursue the matter, but if he should you can tell him you meant a friend of the family you think of as your uncle. This would widen the pool of perspective gift recipients.”
I ask what a swimming pool has to do with anything, but he knows I’m joking. I get half a Jeeves grin and a wonderful dinner conversation. When he begins to clear the table, I wait until he’s in the kitchen before grabbing some plates and following. He carefully doesn’t see me helping him and I get the pleasure of being useful. I’m back for the wine glasses when I see the package. It fits under my arm as I return to the kitchen.
“What’s in this box?” He has to look up from whatever he’s doing in the sink to see the package in question.
“That Bertram, is a gift for you.”
“So I should open it?”
“Unless you prefer the packaging.” As he’s washing the dishes, I don’t get to see his face, nor does he get to see mine. I must look rather a fool, as I try to work out if that was a joke or not.
Giving up, I open the gift. Inside is a pair of socks, the same blue with orange pattern Stiffy had given me, but these are better. Stiffy’s had been sky blue and the orange of the fruit of the same name, something like a sport team. These are dark blue with a pale orange that’s almost peach, so they’re much more dignified and Jeevesian. I turn to thank the gift giver, but have a strange thought.
“Jeeves, not like you to buy a pair of socks I’ve already got.”
“I fear the original pair met with an unfortunate accident due to my inattentiveness, and I felt compelled to replace them. Those were the closest to the original pair that I could purchase.”
Reginald is so clever with words! Not these were the closest available, these were the best he could get. In other words, they could have been stacked to the rafters with ones just like the originals, but he wouldn’t have been able to buy the eyesores. I see his game and accept it as I grin at his back.
“Reginald, I’ll treasure them as the first gift you’ve ever given me, outside of yourself.”
“It is not appropriate for a servant to give an employer gifts, though the reverse is considered good form.”
“You don’t have to apologize for it! Nor do you have to spend your hard earned money on me. I know how hard you work for your loopy employer. Let me shower you with gifts bought by my ill-gotten wealth.”
“You have always been more than generous. As you gave me a book for Christmas, the pajamas might be overly generous of you.” That remark, spoken to the plate in front of him, gets a raised eyebrow from me. He’s upped the stakes of this game.
“Don’t let it bother you, new love! Take the pajamas, let me see you wear them, briefly, before I pull you out of them.”
“If it pleases you, Sir.” I think he puts that pot in the water with a bit more splash than necessary, but splashing must be why he wears the apron.
“It would please me if I could help. Never wanted to do this kind of thing before, but now I want to make life easier on you.” He does something in the sink before he turns to face me.
“Bertram, I have no wish to be insulting, but I would need to instruct you on how to assist me.”
“Insulting instruction is the only way anything gets through to me. Have at me.”
He’s got a wet flannel in his hand, folded into a neat square. Reginald shows me how to wipe the table in an orderly fashion to make sure the whole thing gets wiped. Then he points out how holding a hand at the edge of the table lets you catch the crumbs so they don’t have to be picked out of the carpet later. Refreshing the flannel, he sends me out to try it on the dining room table. I never thought there was so much to wiping a table! Now that I know, I notice how all the crumbs seemed to be around where my plate was. I could help him most by being neater, so I resolve to do so in the future.
I return with my wet flannel and show him my handful of crumbs. He’s finished the dishes and is cleaning out the sink, but I get a kiss for my h. of c. I’m impatient for him to finish, as I had a nap. I’m ready for another go in the bedroom but he won’t enjoy it as much if I force him to leave dirt in the flat. When he finally pulls off his apron, I get to work on his pants. If my reward for helping was a kiss, then what did he deserve for doing all he did? Betting Little Jeeves had an answer to that, I let him out.
“In the kitchen, Sir?” He sounds so scandalized, but Little Jeeves had a much more interesting point.
Pressing up against him, I get one of my ridiculously long hands wrapped around Little Jeeves and L. Wooster. Never had I appreciated the things before, my hands I mean, because I’ve a. L.W. since I puberty. My hands were funny looking sticks until I found out they were made to fit around us like this! Trousers still cover his bum, which means the other hand has to work extra hard to grip that b. Reginald is leaning against the sink and cabinet behind him, his hands caressing me as he lets me milk him in the kitchen.
He’s close, I’ve learned to tell that from the hitch of his breath. I get a second or two to wonder how to prolong this when something moves. My hand gets smashed between his bum and the counter, shoving my fingers deeper into him than they’ve ever been. He lets out a low moan and finishes before he can cover us with a bit of cloth like he always does! How could we have been together this long without me seeing this?
I’d left lights on and had him in the daylight so I could see his face, the look of abandonment of thought for pleasure, but Little Jeeves was always covered when he completed his task. Really not that special, goo emerging from a bit of flesh, but I saw it as proof that I made Reginald as happy as he made me. That proof made me happy, and Reginald embraced me until I found my way back from that moment of bliss.
“Bertram, if you would prepare for bed now, I can clean these clothes before they stain.” If he was still thinking about clothes instead of what I thought about when he said ‘bed’ I must have been doing something wrong!
Backing out of his arms, I shimmy out of my suit coat, tossing it onto the clean table. His eyes only flick to the coat, as he’s more interested in me unbuttoning my shirt. I about strangle myself when I dramatically pull off the shirt, having forgotten to undo the tie. To fight back the choking, I start singing Why Don’t You Do Right.
All removed clothing gets tossed on the table, until I’m wearing only my socks and garters. Those are dashed awkward to remove while dancing, plus the floor might be cold. After making sure Reginald has a good look, I pick up the socks he bought for me and leave the kitchen. I place his gift in the appropriate drawer and sit down to remove the socks and garters I still wore.
Finally naked, I was debating pajamas with myself, if I should bother putting them on, not debating foreign policy with the pajamas, when he came into the room. I don’t know how long he normally would have taken to work his magic on clothes, but he hurried tonight. With considerable effort, I put a frown on my mug and stood to face him.
“And what, my good man, do you mean by wearing clothes in my presence?”
The stuffed frog reaches up to remove his tie and carefully roll it into a tidy ball. Setting it on the dresser, he slides out of his morning coat and folds it over the back of the chair. The watch has to come out of the pocket before he can remove the waistcoat. Pulling his shirt out of his pants, he straightens some folds out of the bottom of the shirt before slowly starting to unbutton it.
A growl of frustration fills the room, propelling me over to assist. Or maybe I jumped to him and growled my need into his ear while grinding Little Wooster into his hip area. Help, grind, came out the same in the end.
When his back loudly impacted the door, I figured he was trapped, so I dropped in for the kill. When I heard that hitch in his breath, I found a way to keep doing what I was doing and see his face at the same time. I was well rewarded with the look of bliss I craved, my fleeting proof. When it passed, he pulled me to my feet. Reginald probably wanted to continue in the proper place, he was tidy like that, but I couldn’t wait that long. Instead I ground against a firm body until I was only along for the ride, controlled by Little Wooster.
Spent, I could have fallen asleep holding Reginald against the bedroom door. Just when I was waking up enough to dance with him, as that seemed to be what Reginald wanted; he sat me on the bed. I stretched and yawned, only to see him standing over me with a wet flannel. I grabbed it from him and wiped him clean. When I leaned in to give Little Jeeves a goodnight kiss on the top of his head, Reginald took the flannel back. I lay back and let him clean me, feeling clean and warm, special and loved. I think I feel asleep before I could thank him for that, my lovely Reginald.
J<3B ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ J<3B
Chapter 3
Author: Trista_zevkia
Chapter: 2/3
Fandom: Wodehouse
Characters/Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: SLASH
Summary: Aunt A. hires some hit men to get rid of Jeeves. Bertie takes this with much naked wrestling=)
Disclaimer: All monies made will go to seducing people to the world of Wodehouse, even if it means making them watch the Fry and Laurie DVD’s.
Author's Notes: I started out the fic below with Jeeves thinking Agatha might have him killed. This is the requested followup, part of the Yuletide fic exchange at IndeedSir.
Chapter 1
Reginald got me worked up about her retribution, but in the five days since I haven’t even heard Aunt A’s name in conversations with other relations. Sulking at Easeby, I shouldn’t wonder. Most of the relations and even the Drones are avoiding the cold snap that’s buried the metrop in snow, so we’ve had a wonderful time.
I consider it a honeymoon in my mind, but I’m careful not to say that out loud. If I did, Reginald would point out that most honeymoons include travel and ask where I wanted to go. I didn’t want to go anywhere, just snuggle into the warmth of his arms. Now he insists he has to go shopping, tripe I don’t believe for a second about not having any food in the flat!
Claims he even cooked all the tinned things we had in an effort to prolong this togetherness and had some stuff delivered. Then he started in about how one had to be extra careful when picking produce outside of the natural growing seasons. When I returned from my memories of the way his whole body trembled when I lashed Little Jeeves just so, he was in his coat by the front door.
“Truly, Bertram, I would not leave this bliss if it was not necessary.” He slips out of the flat before I can find my feet, rush over to him and thank him for that statement.
My thanks might also have delayed his departure even more than my complaining, which is probably why he fled like that. Once I get over my disappointment, I toss on my coat and go to twirl the whangee.
There’s this clothier in the smarter part of the Metrop that I hope Jeeves never visits. It’s where I find some of the fruiter things he disapproves of so, and I avoid the more garish stuff in this place! I think if Jeeves stumbled into this shop he’d be able to destroy the place with an eyebrow and the magic word.
Indeed, he would say, and the whole building would turn to dust while the cloth bits became balls of fire. A gentle cough from a sheep, informing his shepherd he has seen wolf scat, and the fires would be put out as the remains floated away on the breeze. As impressive as it would be to see, I can’t imagine explaining it to the shop owner or the policeman, so it was better it didn’t happen.
After making my purchases there, I always take a careful look around before emerging. And what to my wondering eye should appear today but a spot of gloriousness in a bowler hat! When he’s far enough down the street, I slip out after him.
I’m not sure what he’s doing here, as they don’t have a great deal of produce on this street, but he’s got a flattish, long box sticking out of his pocket. I follow him down another street, until I’m sure he wouldn’t think I was at the shop I was at. As he shimmered his way toward the flat, I had a need to do something stupid.
He was just far too prim, proper and perfect for this wintery day, with all this snow hanging around. Reginald wasn’t even hunched down in his upturned coat collar like the rest of us! The parcel is soft, so it fits under my left arm securely, should I need freedom to use my hands. I look up from packing the snowball and see a large man in a grey coat stomping towards Jeeves, but no other obstacles. I launch the snowball and miss entirely!
The grey coat man wasn’t that close, but I still managed to splatter snow against his head. A startled, but not so you’d notice, Jeeves graciously bends to retrieve the fedora I’d knocked off. I’m frozen in embarrassment until I see a flash of silver in the man’s hand. I shake my head to clear it even as I move in to apologize. I was reading too many detective novels if I thought it was a knife in his hand! Probably a bit of light off of his watch.
The man snatches his hat out of Jeeves’ hand, turns back the way he had come and stomps off. Not even a word of thanks before he was gone and I was standing behind Jeeves without an explanation of what I’d just done. Jeeves was normally more aware of my presence than I was, so I feel weird when I have to call attention to myself.
“Jeeves?” He turns away from where the man was last visible to look at me with half an eyebrow raised.
“Sir, did you need anything particular while I was out shopping?” I don’t know how I resist nibbling that stuffed frog off of him, probably only because my lips are numb.
“I was just out for a walk, stretching the gams and whatnot. You got a lot left to do?”
“Yes Sir. I have seen to the delivery of the replacement tinned goods and staples such as flour and sugar. I also arranged for a delivery of choice meats tomorrow morning. I have yet to select any produce, wines or spices.”
“Thorough as ever Jeeves! But it’s almost tea time and my lips are icicles. Pick a tea shop, and it’ll be my treat, my good man.” I say that last in my most pompous tone, one perfected from generations of having servants, and it doesn’t even get an eyebrow twitch.
“I had intended to return to the flat in time to prepare your tea, Sir.” I blink and take a quick look around before I reply without moving my frozen lips.
“I was asking you to step out with me, not complaining about your performance. Your p. has certainly been tip-top, especially since the 28th.” A touch of color graces his cheekbones, which I choose to believe has more to do with my words than the weather.
“Forgive me, Sir. I simply do not wish to be derelict in my duties.”
“All’s forgiven, now let’s go grab some grub!” That gets him, and I can see it even before he replies.
“Grub, Sir?” He turns and leads the way even as he speaks. “Are you implying you wish to eat grubs, worms and other invertebrates?”
“Invertawhatsits? No, I’m sure I’m only interested in devouring one particular invert.” Jeeves turns wide eyes on me at that, but nobody was close enough to overhear so I pretend innocence. He recovers swiftly, you have to give him that, and he even found a new subject to talk about while recovering.
“Sir, may I ask what you purchased during your walk?”
“Only if you tell me what you bought, don’t think I didn’t see it sticking out of your pocket.” I give him a moment to consider but we round a corner and find a new subject.
“Sir, this is a tea shop I can recommend for a well prepared high tea.”
“Set us up with a table, Jeeves!” He does so and we fall back into the master and servant wheeze we’ve done for the last two years.
Idle chattering about nothing important, comparing his Shakespeare to my Zane Grey and how the relations seem to be doing. He’s just fixed my tea the way I like it when this short bloke in a dark brown overcoat and white fedora bumps into the table. He’s got this thick American accent, not enough like New York to make me think that’s where he’s from, but close.
“So sorry, I’ve been a bit clumsy since I’s got here.” He shakes my hand as he says this and I wonder when the American’s started adding ‘s’ to ‘I.’ He turns to give Jeeves the flattery and I feel something new. “You’s Brits have been most understandin’ abouts it, most kind. That revolution? No hard feelings, right?”
He biffs off and Jeeves watches him go. Jeeves looks deep in thought, though I can’t imagine over what. I consider what I felt while watching that man talk with Jeeves. Best I can figure, I wanted to tell that guy to leave, as Jeeves was mine! I don’t know if I’ve always been possessive, but I’ve never had someone that meant so much to me before. Maybe I will take Jeeves on a proper honeymoon, or at least to Anatole so Jeeves won’t have to cook so much. I can think of better uses for his hands, but not while I’m in a tea shop.
“I say Jeeves! That man, he talks like Anatole, that gangster English he picked up from films.”
“An interesting observations, Sir.”
I delve into the pastry before me, glowing with the complement, or what I chose to see as a complement anyway. I’m reaching absent mindedly for my teacup when a large hand prevents me. Startled at this touch in public, I focus on Jeeves.
“Sir, I think the tea has been improperly prepared. I am afraid I must insist on ordering a new pot.” I give him a confused look, but he motions for the waitress.
He gives her a line about the teapot needing to be cleaned and his request for a new pot. She buys it and scampers off to get the new tea. Jeeves’s eyes flicker toward the American and back to me. Before I can ask he gives me a soft whisper with stiff lips. “Sir, I will explain later.”
I shrug, accepting his judgment on all things not sartorial, and wonder what feast Anatole is making tonight. When we depart a while later, he hands back the package I’d left at the table. He’s made me promise to return to the flat before the temperature drops even further with the approaching night, but it’s the contents of the package that make me want to run there!
I make things ready to welcome the hard working man home and pull out a good book to lie on my bed and read. I’d listen to the wireless but I want to be able to hear his return. To that end I might have left my whangee propped up against the front door, where it couldn’t help but fall when the door was opened. When I hear the scrape and clatter, and I call out.
“Jeeves, is that you?”
“Yes Sir. I am sorry to disturb you, but I did not expect your walking stick to be against the door.”
“Terribly sorry, old thing. Must have forgotten to put it up when I came in.”
“No harm was done, Sir.”
“Say Jeeves, when you have a minute, could you come in here? Strange word in my book I need defining.” I expect him to come running to his young master’s aid, regardless of what else he has to do, and I’m not disappointed. He probably removed his hat and coat while wondering about the whangee, so he’d be in his uniform when he saw me.
Now, I don’t pretend to be a marvel of a physical specimen but he seemed to like me and that was all I needed. Still, I wanted to do something that might please him while hiding the strange boney yet flabby look I was prone to. The silk pajamas I’d bought were a bright red with large white flowers, the Hawaiian pattern according to the shopkeeper.
The thick white dressing gown with stripes of orange, was rather warm, so I had it artfully draped over my gangly form. Both had white, so they should match well enough for even sartorially hidebound Jeeves. All of these bits had been purchased for his larger frame, so I was practically drowning in the silky stuff.
When he opened my bedroom door, I was on my side and facing him, one shoulder bared to the world. I tried to look seductive as I grinned up at him, but I couldn’t swear his reaction was appreciation and not shock. Unsure of how my presentation was going over, I looked away from his face and saw the package he’d bought was now in the pocket of his morning coat.
“So Reginald, what do you think of the new togs?”
“They seem to be a bit big for you Sir. I could return them and select something different if you like.”
“Not for me, you just have to get them off before you can have them.” He likes that, I can tell by the tiny bit of tongue that darts foreword to moisten his lower lip!
“I really should organize the kitchen and prepare supper, Bertram.” He’s trying to be professional but the use of my name shows what he wants to be doing, namely me!
“So you don’t want my gift? The one that belongs to you, and only you, for all time?” I try to look as sad as one of those French dogs with the ears that drag on the ground.
I don’t know which worked, but he’s pulling off his morning coat and tie as he walks toward me. All sadness, put on or not, disappears as he reaches me. A heavy dose of kissing and I forget what sadness is! I’ve kissed bezels, relations or fiancés, but none of them readied me for kissing Reginald. Like everything he does, it’s beyond perfect! If I might be brutally honest, kissing Reginald is like having sex with your mouth.
The hands trailing down my chest, slowly undoing one button at a time added a touch of somethingness to the proceedings. Reginald pulls away from the kiss to apply his mouth to my nipples, and my mouth is lonely. In a moment of mad inspiration, I figure out a way to keep my mouth and cock happy.
“Reginald, Love, lay on your back.”
“Bertram?” He questions me without leaving my nipple, so I’m grinning as I stroke a hand through his hair.
“On your back, it’s my turn to try something new.” Saying that is easy, but not pulling him back down is rather difficult.
With his wonderfully rumpled hair and swollen lips, he’s beyond beautiful. I do wonder when he got rid of his clothes as well as mine, but my idea distracts me. I crawl upward until Little Wooster is even with Jeeves’s talented mouth, and straddled his head. I don’t lower myself too much, as I want him to be able to breathe, but he understands my idea. Before I can even get Little Jeeves in my mouth, he’s adjusting my legs until I’m close enough to his face. Once there, Little Wooster gets the attention he’s grown rather fond of lately.
This position is like a never ending chain of pleasure, as we feed off of each other until something has to give. My arms and legs give out before I’m out of that wave of bliss, but Reginald rolls us over. When he turns around so our heads are together, he curls up around me. I smile at him and try to think of something to say. When I wake up, he’s left the room and something tantalizing is wafting out of the kitchen.
A moment or two to change and I go to talk with him while he works. Maybe, if I’m lucky, he’ll let me help. On the way to the kitchen, I notice the dining room table is set for two, including the package I noticed sticking out of his pocket earlier today. Was that only today? The world feels weird when you wake up after dark. Before I can sort that out, he slides out of the kitchen with a large covered tray.
“I trust you slept well, Bertram?”
“Sorry about that, Love. I was going to ask if you liked your gift.” The food is on the table, so he turns back to me to pull out my chair. If I’d been thinking about it, I would have sat without making him do that for me. I get a kiss on my forehead as a reward for sitting, so it’s not too important.
“I very much enjoyed unwrapping my present, and look forward to future unveilings.” He’s dishing up the food as I work that out.
“Not me, the pajamas! Aren’t they something? I would have bought a matching set, but the shopkeeper was already confused that I was buying a gift for someone I didn’t know the size of. Told him it was a late Christmas gift for my uncle. If he can figure out which aunt’s husband I might have been talking about in order to ask said uncle if he likes them, then I’ll worry. Never thought having a lot of aunts would turn out favorable for me!”
“An unanticipated benefit of a large family, Bertram. The shopkeeper is unlikely to be curious enough to pursue the matter, but if he should you can tell him you meant a friend of the family you think of as your uncle. This would widen the pool of perspective gift recipients.”
I ask what a swimming pool has to do with anything, but he knows I’m joking. I get half a Jeeves grin and a wonderful dinner conversation. When he begins to clear the table, I wait until he’s in the kitchen before grabbing some plates and following. He carefully doesn’t see me helping him and I get the pleasure of being useful. I’m back for the wine glasses when I see the package. It fits under my arm as I return to the kitchen.
“What’s in this box?” He has to look up from whatever he’s doing in the sink to see the package in question.
“That Bertram, is a gift for you.”
“So I should open it?”
“Unless you prefer the packaging.” As he’s washing the dishes, I don’t get to see his face, nor does he get to see mine. I must look rather a fool, as I try to work out if that was a joke or not.
Giving up, I open the gift. Inside is a pair of socks, the same blue with orange pattern Stiffy had given me, but these are better. Stiffy’s had been sky blue and the orange of the fruit of the same name, something like a sport team. These are dark blue with a pale orange that’s almost peach, so they’re much more dignified and Jeevesian. I turn to thank the gift giver, but have a strange thought.
“Jeeves, not like you to buy a pair of socks I’ve already got.”
“I fear the original pair met with an unfortunate accident due to my inattentiveness, and I felt compelled to replace them. Those were the closest to the original pair that I could purchase.”
Reginald is so clever with words! Not these were the closest available, these were the best he could get. In other words, they could have been stacked to the rafters with ones just like the originals, but he wouldn’t have been able to buy the eyesores. I see his game and accept it as I grin at his back.
“Reginald, I’ll treasure them as the first gift you’ve ever given me, outside of yourself.”
“It is not appropriate for a servant to give an employer gifts, though the reverse is considered good form.”
“You don’t have to apologize for it! Nor do you have to spend your hard earned money on me. I know how hard you work for your loopy employer. Let me shower you with gifts bought by my ill-gotten wealth.”
“You have always been more than generous. As you gave me a book for Christmas, the pajamas might be overly generous of you.” That remark, spoken to the plate in front of him, gets a raised eyebrow from me. He’s upped the stakes of this game.
“Don’t let it bother you, new love! Take the pajamas, let me see you wear them, briefly, before I pull you out of them.”
“If it pleases you, Sir.” I think he puts that pot in the water with a bit more splash than necessary, but splashing must be why he wears the apron.
“It would please me if I could help. Never wanted to do this kind of thing before, but now I want to make life easier on you.” He does something in the sink before he turns to face me.
“Bertram, I have no wish to be insulting, but I would need to instruct you on how to assist me.”
“Insulting instruction is the only way anything gets through to me. Have at me.”
He’s got a wet flannel in his hand, folded into a neat square. Reginald shows me how to wipe the table in an orderly fashion to make sure the whole thing gets wiped. Then he points out how holding a hand at the edge of the table lets you catch the crumbs so they don’t have to be picked out of the carpet later. Refreshing the flannel, he sends me out to try it on the dining room table. I never thought there was so much to wiping a table! Now that I know, I notice how all the crumbs seemed to be around where my plate was. I could help him most by being neater, so I resolve to do so in the future.
I return with my wet flannel and show him my handful of crumbs. He’s finished the dishes and is cleaning out the sink, but I get a kiss for my h. of c. I’m impatient for him to finish, as I had a nap. I’m ready for another go in the bedroom but he won’t enjoy it as much if I force him to leave dirt in the flat. When he finally pulls off his apron, I get to work on his pants. If my reward for helping was a kiss, then what did he deserve for doing all he did? Betting Little Jeeves had an answer to that, I let him out.
“In the kitchen, Sir?” He sounds so scandalized, but Little Jeeves had a much more interesting point.
Pressing up against him, I get one of my ridiculously long hands wrapped around Little Jeeves and L. Wooster. Never had I appreciated the things before, my hands I mean, because I’ve a. L.W. since I puberty. My hands were funny looking sticks until I found out they were made to fit around us like this! Trousers still cover his bum, which means the other hand has to work extra hard to grip that b. Reginald is leaning against the sink and cabinet behind him, his hands caressing me as he lets me milk him in the kitchen.
He’s close, I’ve learned to tell that from the hitch of his breath. I get a second or two to wonder how to prolong this when something moves. My hand gets smashed between his bum and the counter, shoving my fingers deeper into him than they’ve ever been. He lets out a low moan and finishes before he can cover us with a bit of cloth like he always does! How could we have been together this long without me seeing this?
I’d left lights on and had him in the daylight so I could see his face, the look of abandonment of thought for pleasure, but Little Jeeves was always covered when he completed his task. Really not that special, goo emerging from a bit of flesh, but I saw it as proof that I made Reginald as happy as he made me. That proof made me happy, and Reginald embraced me until I found my way back from that moment of bliss.
“Bertram, if you would prepare for bed now, I can clean these clothes before they stain.” If he was still thinking about clothes instead of what I thought about when he said ‘bed’ I must have been doing something wrong!
Backing out of his arms, I shimmy out of my suit coat, tossing it onto the clean table. His eyes only flick to the coat, as he’s more interested in me unbuttoning my shirt. I about strangle myself when I dramatically pull off the shirt, having forgotten to undo the tie. To fight back the choking, I start singing Why Don’t You Do Right.
All removed clothing gets tossed on the table, until I’m wearing only my socks and garters. Those are dashed awkward to remove while dancing, plus the floor might be cold. After making sure Reginald has a good look, I pick up the socks he bought for me and leave the kitchen. I place his gift in the appropriate drawer and sit down to remove the socks and garters I still wore.
Finally naked, I was debating pajamas with myself, if I should bother putting them on, not debating foreign policy with the pajamas, when he came into the room. I don’t know how long he normally would have taken to work his magic on clothes, but he hurried tonight. With considerable effort, I put a frown on my mug and stood to face him.
“And what, my good man, do you mean by wearing clothes in my presence?”
The stuffed frog reaches up to remove his tie and carefully roll it into a tidy ball. Setting it on the dresser, he slides out of his morning coat and folds it over the back of the chair. The watch has to come out of the pocket before he can remove the waistcoat. Pulling his shirt out of his pants, he straightens some folds out of the bottom of the shirt before slowly starting to unbutton it.
A growl of frustration fills the room, propelling me over to assist. Or maybe I jumped to him and growled my need into his ear while grinding Little Wooster into his hip area. Help, grind, came out the same in the end.
When his back loudly impacted the door, I figured he was trapped, so I dropped in for the kill. When I heard that hitch in his breath, I found a way to keep doing what I was doing and see his face at the same time. I was well rewarded with the look of bliss I craved, my fleeting proof. When it passed, he pulled me to my feet. Reginald probably wanted to continue in the proper place, he was tidy like that, but I couldn’t wait that long. Instead I ground against a firm body until I was only along for the ride, controlled by Little Wooster.
Spent, I could have fallen asleep holding Reginald against the bedroom door. Just when I was waking up enough to dance with him, as that seemed to be what Reginald wanted; he sat me on the bed. I stretched and yawned, only to see him standing over me with a wet flannel. I grabbed it from him and wiped him clean. When I leaned in to give Little Jeeves a goodnight kiss on the top of his head, Reginald took the flannel back. I lay back and let him clean me, feeling clean and warm, special and loved. I think I feel asleep before I could thank him for that, my lovely Reginald.
Chapter 3
