A very, very late b-day pressie
*achem*
A bit over 6 months ago, a certain lovely lady had a birthday. I promised her a Jeeves/Wooster fic, and now, finally, she can have it. Ignoring that it's now closer to an early birthday present than a late one:
Happy Birthday, skyblue_reverie! I hope you like it. :-D
Title: A Reflection
Author: flufshepherd
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,821
Warnings: See rating.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Summary: Bertie reflects on how his relationship with Jeeves became the way it has.
A/N: A super-late birthday pressie for skyblue_reverie, beta'd by the marvelous, fantastic, marvelously fantastic kitty_poker1. Thank you, Kitty!
I knew I loved Jeeves from the very first time I saw him crack a smile. If you know Jeeves, you know that earning a smile from the man is as likely as my good friend Barmy Phipps becoming a first-rate philosopher. That's not to say that Barmy's got a completely hollow noggin atop his shoulders; I just mean that some people are thinkers, and some are smilers. Jeeves is one, Barmy the other, and those lines are rarely crossed.
So, the first time I ever saw Jeeves smile I was suddenly overcome with the urge to see it again. And again. And again and again and again until his cheeks practically fell off. Not only did I want to see it happen, I wanted to cause it.
Now while I'm a bit quicker than Barmy in the thinking department, I've never considered myself the brainiest of coves. Even so, I recognized that this was not the normal type of feeling a gentleman should have for his gentleman's personal gentleman. I mean to say, if every chap in the world went around desperately trying to earn a smile from his manservant's lips, well, the world would be in an altogether different sort of state, would it not?
I paid no mind to that rational voice in my head and went on with questing for more of Jeeves' smiles. I'm sure Jeeves caught on to my plans, as I was not entirely subtle with going about them. I stayed in his company for much longer periods, repeated to him all of the latest jokes immediately after hearing them, and even once, to the dismay of both of us, attempted to cook dinner.
Jeeves said nothing on the matter of my new goal. He did, though, grace me with a grin or two, which set my heart a-flutter and made me feel as if somebody had emptied me of my intestines and replaced them with warm cotton-balls and melted chocolate. I was well-enough versed in the matters dealt within novels by Rosie M. Banks to clearly recognize these symptoms.
It was love.
How our relationship went from that to involving acts of a more carnal nature, I can only guess. We'd never truly put our relationship into words. I suppose the only way to truly trace how we went from an employer/employee relationship to a more, well, chummy one, would be to tell of each significant 'first' of ours, if you know what I mean.
Our first kiss happened only a few weeks after I had discovered my love for my man Jeeves. I'd returned to the flat from the Drones not completely unaffected by the rather generous proportions of alcohol I had ingested during lunch.
As I stumbled in through the door, Jeeves was standing there, perfect in his tall, manly manservant way, entirely nonchalant and smelling wonderful, as he does. As he leant forward to rid me of my hat and umbrella with a knowing glint in his eye and a, "I hope you had a pleasant luncheon, sir,” something in my head (I have not yet eliminated the afternoon's wine from the suspect list) convinced me to lean forward with him and quickly peck him on the cheek.
To clarify, I use the word 'peck' to mean 'light kiss,' and not 'bird's bite.'
Jeeves was hardly surprised. That is, his eyes did widen ever so slightly for the quickest of moments, but I suspect that the chap had known about my emotions and their nature for quite a while. I was not disappointed at all when he responded to my affection with another of his cotton-balls and melted chocolate inducing smiles. I beamed back at him and that was, as they say, that.
No words were exchanged on the matter, and every day since then, whenever Jeeves or I returned to the flat and was greeted by the other, a quick kiss on the cheek was to be added to the ritual. That is, of course, if we weren't in the presence of others. We never said, but Jeeves and I both seemed to agree that signs of such affection weren't appropriate to share in front of relatives, chums, or strangers.
I'm not sure when it happened, but soon these chummy k.'s on the c. became more frequent, and not just reserved for doorway greetings. A cup of tea, for example, could merit such a k. on the c. . Meals, also. A nice tune on the piano occasionally invited one, and sometimes they were spurred on for no special occasion at all. Every night, as Jeeves tucked yours truly into bed asking if that will be all, sir, his lips were pressed lightly to the old Wooster face, and dashed if it weren't my favourite kiss of the day.
It took me a while to muster up the courage for it, but one night, as Jeeves moved to plant the last kiss of the day, I tilted my head slightly, so that instead of landing on my cheek, his lips landed atop mine own. Jeeves made an affirmative noise and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, and I smiled into the kiss. Since then, that, too, was added to the list of daily rituals of the Wooster-Jeeves household.
Our first foray into the much more physical aspects of our relationship was also of my - what's the word? Starts with an 'i', I believe. Imitate... Inebriate... Initiation! That's the one. I initiated this event, as I did the cheek-pecks and the night-snogs. Jeeves, I imagine, awaited each initiation with perfect patience, waiting for me to be ready for the advancements in our relationship. I sometimes wished he wouldn't be such a gentleman in these matters, because I'd have found it much easier if he'd initiated these advancements once or twice.
Our nightly snogs, as you can guess, were my favourite parts of the day. Or would that be 'part of the days'? Either way, they were looked forward to all day with anticipation. I often went to bed earlier than the rest of my body desired just to feel my manservant's lips against my own. Jeeves, I could tell, had quite similar feelings, as I do recall him suggesting I head off to the sack earlier than the norm, as well.
One night, nearly two months after our first lip-on-lip kiss, and nearly three since our first doorway peck-on-cheek, with my tongue in its favourite mouth, I nervously slid my hand from its normal resting spot on the back of Jeeves' shoulder, down his back until I was tracing the top of his trousers with my fingers. Jeeves' quiet groan was enough encouragement for me, and I slid my hands further down, cupping his buttocks. From this position, I pulled Jeeves forward, and soon Jeeves was lying on top of me, legs on either side of my own. We had to move the blankets from between us, but soon I was pleased to find Jeeves' frame pressed against my own.
With each of our groins in such close proximity to the other's, it took little time for me to feel a stirring in my nether-regions, and to feel an answering one pressing against it. I arched my hips and pressed harder into Jeeves' hardness. Jeeves whimpered, and I raised my legs to wrap them around his body.
Jeeves reached between us and in a move that I couldn't possibly repeat, undid his flies and lowered both of our trousers so quickly that, before I could blink, both our erections were out in the open. I had to unwrap my legs for him to be able to rid our legs of any garments, but once that task was completed, I immediately replaced them.
I pressed myself against Jeeves as hard as I could and whimpered. Jeeves, who was kissing beneath my ears, moved his hand so that he was grasping both our hardnesses. He squeezed and I yelped and my hips moved of their own accord to his hand.
I am used to Jeeves taking most matters into his own hands, this instance being more literal than most others, but I just didn't find it fair that he be responsible for both of us in this task, so I quickly took his own erection from his hand, and soon we were both tugging and pulling each other closer to our climaxes.
All from that point was a great blur of thrusting, stroking, squeezing, kissing, and groaning. Soon, though, I found myself pulsing out into Jeeves' hand and not too long after felt Jeeves come to his own end.
Jeeves may not appreciate my reporting this, but I feel it extremely important to mention that when Jeeves orgasms, his entire body stills, his eyes close, as if in deep concentration, and he lets out what seems to be a mix between a long, shuddering breath, and a groan. Such a noise I could not imitate, but from that night on, I have found it my duty to draw it from him as often as possible. The sound sends all sorts of lovely shivers down the Wooster framework.
I'd report our first full-on intercourse, but, upon reflection, it is nearly identical to the encounter above, only it lasted a bit longer and included more oil and less nervousness and occurred exactly one night later.
Well, that was how Jeeves and I went from having a proper employee/employer relationship to a more romantic one. Though we never put the thing into words, we both understand that there are rules to our companionship. We both avoid getting tangled up in romantic relationships outside of our own one, but as my devoted readers would know, it's often hard for me to escape such r. r.'s, so Jeeves knows that when such happens, it's his duty to steer me clear of these sinister entanglements.
We also know to exercise complete discretion with our love. I say love, because, while we never say it to each other, we both jolly well know that that's what we feel. Jeeves can read me like an open book, and there have been more than one chain of events that have led me to knowing full well that Jeeves' feelings for one Bertram Wilberforce Wooster are not those just of lust.
Perhaps some day I will record one or two of those c.'s of e.'s, but that will have to be a job for another day. Reminiscing on these events has led to me wanting to spend more time with my beloved gentleman's personal gentleman. After all, he is coming back from the shops soon, and I'd hate to miss out on being there to reintroduce my lips to his face once more, if for no reason more than to see the smile that will greet me afterwards. Jeeves really does have a wonderful smile, you see.
A bit over 6 months ago, a certain lovely lady had a birthday. I promised her a Jeeves/Wooster fic, and now, finally, she can have it. Ignoring that it's now closer to an early birthday present than a late one:
Happy Birthday, skyblue_reverie! I hope you like it. :-D
Title: A Reflection
Author: flufshepherd
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,821
Warnings: See rating.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Summary: Bertie reflects on how his relationship with Jeeves became the way it has.
A/N: A super-late birthday pressie for skyblue_reverie, beta'd by the marvelous, fantastic, marvelously fantastic kitty_poker1. Thank you, Kitty!
I knew I loved Jeeves from the very first time I saw him crack a smile. If you know Jeeves, you know that earning a smile from the man is as likely as my good friend Barmy Phipps becoming a first-rate philosopher. That's not to say that Barmy's got a completely hollow noggin atop his shoulders; I just mean that some people are thinkers, and some are smilers. Jeeves is one, Barmy the other, and those lines are rarely crossed.
So, the first time I ever saw Jeeves smile I was suddenly overcome with the urge to see it again. And again. And again and again and again until his cheeks practically fell off. Not only did I want to see it happen, I wanted to cause it.
Now while I'm a bit quicker than Barmy in the thinking department, I've never considered myself the brainiest of coves. Even so, I recognized that this was not the normal type of feeling a gentleman should have for his gentleman's personal gentleman. I mean to say, if every chap in the world went around desperately trying to earn a smile from his manservant's lips, well, the world would be in an altogether different sort of state, would it not?
I paid no mind to that rational voice in my head and went on with questing for more of Jeeves' smiles. I'm sure Jeeves caught on to my plans, as I was not entirely subtle with going about them. I stayed in his company for much longer periods, repeated to him all of the latest jokes immediately after hearing them, and even once, to the dismay of both of us, attempted to cook dinner.
Jeeves said nothing on the matter of my new goal. He did, though, grace me with a grin or two, which set my heart a-flutter and made me feel as if somebody had emptied me of my intestines and replaced them with warm cotton-balls and melted chocolate. I was well-enough versed in the matters dealt within novels by Rosie M. Banks to clearly recognize these symptoms.
It was love.
How our relationship went from that to involving acts of a more carnal nature, I can only guess. We'd never truly put our relationship into words. I suppose the only way to truly trace how we went from an employer/employee relationship to a more, well, chummy one, would be to tell of each significant 'first' of ours, if you know what I mean.
Our first kiss happened only a few weeks after I had discovered my love for my man Jeeves. I'd returned to the flat from the Drones not completely unaffected by the rather generous proportions of alcohol I had ingested during lunch.
As I stumbled in through the door, Jeeves was standing there, perfect in his tall, manly manservant way, entirely nonchalant and smelling wonderful, as he does. As he leant forward to rid me of my hat and umbrella with a knowing glint in his eye and a, "I hope you had a pleasant luncheon, sir,” something in my head (I have not yet eliminated the afternoon's wine from the suspect list) convinced me to lean forward with him and quickly peck him on the cheek.
To clarify, I use the word 'peck' to mean 'light kiss,' and not 'bird's bite.'
Jeeves was hardly surprised. That is, his eyes did widen ever so slightly for the quickest of moments, but I suspect that the chap had known about my emotions and their nature for quite a while. I was not disappointed at all when he responded to my affection with another of his cotton-balls and melted chocolate inducing smiles. I beamed back at him and that was, as they say, that.
No words were exchanged on the matter, and every day since then, whenever Jeeves or I returned to the flat and was greeted by the other, a quick kiss on the cheek was to be added to the ritual. That is, of course, if we weren't in the presence of others. We never said, but Jeeves and I both seemed to agree that signs of such affection weren't appropriate to share in front of relatives, chums, or strangers.
I'm not sure when it happened, but soon these chummy k.'s on the c. became more frequent, and not just reserved for doorway greetings. A cup of tea, for example, could merit such a k. on the c. . Meals, also. A nice tune on the piano occasionally invited one, and sometimes they were spurred on for no special occasion at all. Every night, as Jeeves tucked yours truly into bed asking if that will be all, sir, his lips were pressed lightly to the old Wooster face, and dashed if it weren't my favourite kiss of the day.
It took me a while to muster up the courage for it, but one night, as Jeeves moved to plant the last kiss of the day, I tilted my head slightly, so that instead of landing on my cheek, his lips landed atop mine own. Jeeves made an affirmative noise and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, and I smiled into the kiss. Since then, that, too, was added to the list of daily rituals of the Wooster-Jeeves household.
Our first foray into the much more physical aspects of our relationship was also of my - what's the word? Starts with an 'i', I believe. Imitate... Inebriate... Initiation! That's the one. I initiated this event, as I did the cheek-pecks and the night-snogs. Jeeves, I imagine, awaited each initiation with perfect patience, waiting for me to be ready for the advancements in our relationship. I sometimes wished he wouldn't be such a gentleman in these matters, because I'd have found it much easier if he'd initiated these advancements once or twice.
Our nightly snogs, as you can guess, were my favourite parts of the day. Or would that be 'part of the days'? Either way, they were looked forward to all day with anticipation. I often went to bed earlier than the rest of my body desired just to feel my manservant's lips against my own. Jeeves, I could tell, had quite similar feelings, as I do recall him suggesting I head off to the sack earlier than the norm, as well.
One night, nearly two months after our first lip-on-lip kiss, and nearly three since our first doorway peck-on-cheek, with my tongue in its favourite mouth, I nervously slid my hand from its normal resting spot on the back of Jeeves' shoulder, down his back until I was tracing the top of his trousers with my fingers. Jeeves' quiet groan was enough encouragement for me, and I slid my hands further down, cupping his buttocks. From this position, I pulled Jeeves forward, and soon Jeeves was lying on top of me, legs on either side of my own. We had to move the blankets from between us, but soon I was pleased to find Jeeves' frame pressed against my own.
With each of our groins in such close proximity to the other's, it took little time for me to feel a stirring in my nether-regions, and to feel an answering one pressing against it. I arched my hips and pressed harder into Jeeves' hardness. Jeeves whimpered, and I raised my legs to wrap them around his body.
Jeeves reached between us and in a move that I couldn't possibly repeat, undid his flies and lowered both of our trousers so quickly that, before I could blink, both our erections were out in the open. I had to unwrap my legs for him to be able to rid our legs of any garments, but once that task was completed, I immediately replaced them.
I pressed myself against Jeeves as hard as I could and whimpered. Jeeves, who was kissing beneath my ears, moved his hand so that he was grasping both our hardnesses. He squeezed and I yelped and my hips moved of their own accord to his hand.
I am used to Jeeves taking most matters into his own hands, this instance being more literal than most others, but I just didn't find it fair that he be responsible for both of us in this task, so I quickly took his own erection from his hand, and soon we were both tugging and pulling each other closer to our climaxes.
All from that point was a great blur of thrusting, stroking, squeezing, kissing, and groaning. Soon, though, I found myself pulsing out into Jeeves' hand and not too long after felt Jeeves come to his own end.
Jeeves may not appreciate my reporting this, but I feel it extremely important to mention that when Jeeves orgasms, his entire body stills, his eyes close, as if in deep concentration, and he lets out what seems to be a mix between a long, shuddering breath, and a groan. Such a noise I could not imitate, but from that night on, I have found it my duty to draw it from him as often as possible. The sound sends all sorts of lovely shivers down the Wooster framework.
I'd report our first full-on intercourse, but, upon reflection, it is nearly identical to the encounter above, only it lasted a bit longer and included more oil and less nervousness and occurred exactly one night later.
Well, that was how Jeeves and I went from having a proper employee/employer relationship to a more romantic one. Though we never put the thing into words, we both understand that there are rules to our companionship. We both avoid getting tangled up in romantic relationships outside of our own one, but as my devoted readers would know, it's often hard for me to escape such r. r.'s, so Jeeves knows that when such happens, it's his duty to steer me clear of these sinister entanglements.
We also know to exercise complete discretion with our love. I say love, because, while we never say it to each other, we both jolly well know that that's what we feel. Jeeves can read me like an open book, and there have been more than one chain of events that have led me to knowing full well that Jeeves' feelings for one Bertram Wilberforce Wooster are not those just of lust.
Perhaps some day I will record one or two of those c.'s of e.'s, but that will have to be a job for another day. Reminiscing on these events has led to me wanting to spend more time with my beloved gentleman's personal gentleman. After all, he is coming back from the shops soon, and I'd hate to miss out on being there to reintroduce my lips to his face once more, if for no reason more than to see the smile that will greet me afterwards. Jeeves really does have a wonderful smile, you see.