Fic: Bertie and the Delicious Memory
I wrote this story in March and only posted it on IndeedSir. I'd forgotten about it until now, and I just wanted to have it on my own LJ, too. I'm quite sure everyone on my flist has seen this thing, so there's no need at all to comment. I am not whoring for comments, I promise! Really, I'm not!
Title: Bertie and the Delicious Memory
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Summary: Aunt Agatha is coming for tea, but Bertie would rather think about something else - such as a lovely morning interlude with his manservant.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Bertie and Jeeves belong to Wodehouse. I’m just taking them out for a spin. I’ll return them in good shape, I promise.
A/N: Very helpful beta work done by sabinelagrande . All mistakes are mine, however. About 1,300 words.
Bertie Wooster leaned against the kitchen counter and admired the form of his tall, broad-shouldered and edible valet as the valet in question prepared tea.
“Almost time for the inquisition, eh Jeeves?”
Jeeves looked up from the plate of cucumber sandwiches he was preparing. “Mrs. Gregson will arrive at four o’clock, sir.”
“Wonderful,” Bertie said. “Just bally wonderful. Have we battened down the hatches, tied up the loose cannons and such?”
“Preparations are nearly complete, sir,” Jeeves said as he draped a damp tea towel over the sandwiches.
Bertie stared at Jeeves’ backside as the man bent to retrieve something from the refrigerator. The black wool trousers stretched and moved with their owner, and Bertie’s own trousers became less than well-fitting.
“What do you suppose she wants, Jeeves?” Bertie asked, not really wanting to know but needing the distraction.
“I’m sure I don’t know, sir. I expect you’ll discover her intentions in due time.”
Just the thought of his aged aunt crossing the threshold of Chateau Wooster was almost enough to dampen Bertie’s wayward thoughts - but not quite.
And such lovely thoughts they were, rather less than twelve hours old.
Early that morning, Bertie had awakened before Jeeves, who normally rose by five in the ack emma, an hour not fit for man nor beast and certainly not for one B. Wooster. Bertie hadn't known why he wasn’t fast asleep, but pondering imponderables that early in the morning was a waste of time. Instead, he had taken advantage of his insomnia.
Jeeves had been laying on his back with his head on Bertie’s shoulder, his gorgeous, mile-wide chest bare and unencumbered by the blankets; his beautiful, rugged face, just visible in the darkened room, was relaxed in sleep, open and unguarded.
Bertie had slid his shoulder free, moving slowly so as not to awaken his slumbering lover. After that, it had been an easy matter to slide on top of Jeeves, straddle his hips and kiss him.
It took several seconds, but Jeeves had sighed and opened his mouth, inviting Bertie’s eager tongue inside. Bertie RSVPed with an exploration of his valet’s teeth, tongue and soft, trembling lips.
Bertie had pulled back to gaze into Jeeves’ deep blue eyes.
“Good morning, my love.”
Jeeves had rewarded him with a rare smile, really more of a lift of the lip, but Bertie had known what it meant.
“You’re up early, sir.”
“In more ways than one, my love,” Bertie had said, grinding his hips against Jeeves until he felt his manservant's enormous erection. “And you’re up, too. How convenient.”
“Yes, sir, it is,” Jeeves had said in a strained voice. His hands had moved to Bertie’s hips, urging him to move faster; but Bertie, using a combination of surprise, leverage and wiry strength, had grasped Jeeves by the elbows and pinned his arms against the bedclothes.
“Not so fast, old thing,” Bertie said. “What, pray tell, is your hurry?”
Bertie had then stopped moving and used all of his slight weight to still the larger man’s movements, but Jeeves had still writhed beneath him, his breathing labored.
“Sir,” he'd said, his voice losing its customary dignity. “Please...”
Bertie had always loved reducing Jeeves to a shivering, jibbering wreck. Well, not jibbering. Jeeves neither jibbered nor jabbered. His pleadings of “more,” and “again,” and “I love you” were always enunciated in clear King’s English.
Bertie had bent to place soft, wet, sucking kisses down Jeeves' neck to the base of his throat and then plunged his tongue into his manservant’s ear for good measure.
“Please, sir, I need you,” Jeeves had moaned. “Don’t make me wait. Please.”
“Ah, Jeeves, prolonging the agony is part of the pleasure, don’t you think?” Bertie bit Jeeves’ shoulder then blew cool air on the tender spot. “And I haven’t tasted your nipples yet, have I?”
Jeeves’ breath had hitched in a charming fashion, and he'd groaned when Bertie touched the tip of his tongue to one hardened nipple. He laved it throughly, bit gently, then waited for the words he'd known would come.
“Please, sir,” Jeeves had whispered, his head turning from side to side on his pillow. “Suck on it. Oh, please.”
My pleasure, Bertie had thought, not taking his mouth from the delectable bit of flesh. He had sucked, gently at first, then harder by degrees until the suction threatened to bruise the flesh. Jeeves had bucked his hips, almost dislodging Bertie. Bertie had released Jeeves’ arms and felt his valet’s hands immediately close on his hips in an almost-brutal grip.
“Now, sir, please. I need you so much.”
“And I, you, my love,” Bertie had said and began rutting furiously against the man beneath him. Bertie had restrained himself long enough to bring Jeeves to a screaming climax, and then he'd exploded himself. What a morning it had been.
A questioning voice brought Bertie back to the mundane present.
“Sir?”
Bertie looked around the kitchen. “Did you say something, old thing?”
“I wondered if what I’ve prepared will be enough for tea, sir. We have cucumber sandwiches, cheese straws, tea cakes and a chocolate cake.”
Bertie tried to feign interest in the menu. “Did you make the olivey oily stuff for the cucumbers?”
“Yes, sir.” Jeeves placed a glass cover on the chocolate cake. “Mrs. Gregson favors it. She once complimented me on the flavor.”
Bertie frowned. “Surprising. Aunt A is really awfully rude to you, and there’s not much I can do about it. If we could be married...”
Jeeves placed a forefinger on Bertie’s lips. “I know, sir. I know you defend my honor as best you can, and I love you for that.”
Bertie slipped his arms around his valet’s waist and held him tight. “I love you, adore you, everything you, Jeeves. I just wish we didn’t have to hide it.”
Jeeves returned the embrace and kissed Bertie’s left temple. “I long for the same freedom, sir, the freedom to take your hand in front of others, to make a public declaration of my love for you. But I’m afraid we will have to remain circumspect until such time as men like ourselves are accepted into society.”
Bertie kissed Jeeves’ check and glanced at the clock.
“Good Lord, she’ll be here in five minutes,” he said.
“Time enough for a kiss, sir.”
He framed Bertie’s face in his large hands and Bertie almost stopped breathing as he gazed into Jeeves’ eyes. Such a deep, clear blue, he thought, like the sea on a stormy day.
Bertie closed his eyes as Jeeves’ lips touched his. No one was more proficient at the labial arts than Jeeves. After a first tentative exploration, their lips met fully and Bertie sighed as he felt his valet’s tongue caress his lower lip before sliding into his mouth.
Bertie slid one hand behind Jeeves’ neck and pulled his lover closer, deepening the kiss. He groaned as Jeeves latched onto his tongue, sucking it into his own mouth.
Bertie would have continued, but he felt Jeeves’ hands on his shoulders, gently but firmly ending the embrace.
“Mrs. Gregson, sir, will be here momentarily,” Jeeves said, kissing Bertie’s flushed cheek.
“Ah, Jeeves, a kiss like that would bring any man to his knees,” Bertie said as Jeeves returned his attention to the forthcoming tea party.
Jeeves lit the stove and set the kettle on the burner before answering.
“An intriguing image, sir, and one I would most like to view.”
Bertie raised his eyebrows and felt his lips split into a wide, foolish grin. “That could be arranged, my faithful valet.”
“Sir,” Jeeves said as he pulled on the black coat that covered his tempting backside. “I will finish preparing tea if you’ll greet Mrs. Gregson.”
“But, Jeeves, she’s not even here yet,” Bertie said.
An insistent knock rattled the door of the flat.
“Drat the bat,” Bertie said.
“An apt rhyme, sir, but we still must admit her.”
As Bertie moved toward the door he heard a slight cough.
“Yes, Jeeves?”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, you aren’t looking well. Perhaps you are even contagious.”
Bertie frowned. “But Jeeves, I’m fine. Never better. I...”
Then he grinned. “I wouldn’t want my aged Aunt A to catch some catching whatsit.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Bertie exited the kitchen, but returned in mere seconds.
“Shall I meet you in our room, in what say, a half hour?”
“Very good, sir.”
Title: Bertie and the Delicious Memory
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Summary: Aunt Agatha is coming for tea, but Bertie would rather think about something else - such as a lovely morning interlude with his manservant.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Bertie and Jeeves belong to Wodehouse. I’m just taking them out for a spin. I’ll return them in good shape, I promise.
A/N: Very helpful beta work done by sabinelagrande . All mistakes are mine, however. About 1,300 words.
Bertie Wooster leaned against the kitchen counter and admired the form of his tall, broad-shouldered and edible valet as the valet in question prepared tea.
“Almost time for the inquisition, eh Jeeves?”
Jeeves looked up from the plate of cucumber sandwiches he was preparing. “Mrs. Gregson will arrive at four o’clock, sir.”
“Wonderful,” Bertie said. “Just bally wonderful. Have we battened down the hatches, tied up the loose cannons and such?”
“Preparations are nearly complete, sir,” Jeeves said as he draped a damp tea towel over the sandwiches.
Bertie stared at Jeeves’ backside as the man bent to retrieve something from the refrigerator. The black wool trousers stretched and moved with their owner, and Bertie’s own trousers became less than well-fitting.
“What do you suppose she wants, Jeeves?” Bertie asked, not really wanting to know but needing the distraction.
“I’m sure I don’t know, sir. I expect you’ll discover her intentions in due time.”
Just the thought of his aged aunt crossing the threshold of Chateau Wooster was almost enough to dampen Bertie’s wayward thoughts - but not quite.
And such lovely thoughts they were, rather less than twelve hours old.
Early that morning, Bertie had awakened before Jeeves, who normally rose by five in the ack emma, an hour not fit for man nor beast and certainly not for one B. Wooster. Bertie hadn't known why he wasn’t fast asleep, but pondering imponderables that early in the morning was a waste of time. Instead, he had taken advantage of his insomnia.
Jeeves had been laying on his back with his head on Bertie’s shoulder, his gorgeous, mile-wide chest bare and unencumbered by the blankets; his beautiful, rugged face, just visible in the darkened room, was relaxed in sleep, open and unguarded.
Bertie had slid his shoulder free, moving slowly so as not to awaken his slumbering lover. After that, it had been an easy matter to slide on top of Jeeves, straddle his hips and kiss him.
It took several seconds, but Jeeves had sighed and opened his mouth, inviting Bertie’s eager tongue inside. Bertie RSVPed with an exploration of his valet’s teeth, tongue and soft, trembling lips.
Bertie had pulled back to gaze into Jeeves’ deep blue eyes.
“Good morning, my love.”
Jeeves had rewarded him with a rare smile, really more of a lift of the lip, but Bertie had known what it meant.
“You’re up early, sir.”
“In more ways than one, my love,” Bertie had said, grinding his hips against Jeeves until he felt his manservant's enormous erection. “And you’re up, too. How convenient.”
“Yes, sir, it is,” Jeeves had said in a strained voice. His hands had moved to Bertie’s hips, urging him to move faster; but Bertie, using a combination of surprise, leverage and wiry strength, had grasped Jeeves by the elbows and pinned his arms against the bedclothes.
“Not so fast, old thing,” Bertie said. “What, pray tell, is your hurry?”
Bertie had then stopped moving and used all of his slight weight to still the larger man’s movements, but Jeeves had still writhed beneath him, his breathing labored.
“Sir,” he'd said, his voice losing its customary dignity. “Please...”
Bertie had always loved reducing Jeeves to a shivering, jibbering wreck. Well, not jibbering. Jeeves neither jibbered nor jabbered. His pleadings of “more,” and “again,” and “I love you” were always enunciated in clear King’s English.
Bertie had bent to place soft, wet, sucking kisses down Jeeves' neck to the base of his throat and then plunged his tongue into his manservant’s ear for good measure.
“Please, sir, I need you,” Jeeves had moaned. “Don’t make me wait. Please.”
“Ah, Jeeves, prolonging the agony is part of the pleasure, don’t you think?” Bertie bit Jeeves’ shoulder then blew cool air on the tender spot. “And I haven’t tasted your nipples yet, have I?”
Jeeves’ breath had hitched in a charming fashion, and he'd groaned when Bertie touched the tip of his tongue to one hardened nipple. He laved it throughly, bit gently, then waited for the words he'd known would come.
“Please, sir,” Jeeves had whispered, his head turning from side to side on his pillow. “Suck on it. Oh, please.”
My pleasure, Bertie had thought, not taking his mouth from the delectable bit of flesh. He had sucked, gently at first, then harder by degrees until the suction threatened to bruise the flesh. Jeeves had bucked his hips, almost dislodging Bertie. Bertie had released Jeeves’ arms and felt his valet’s hands immediately close on his hips in an almost-brutal grip.
“Now, sir, please. I need you so much.”
“And I, you, my love,” Bertie had said and began rutting furiously against the man beneath him. Bertie had restrained himself long enough to bring Jeeves to a screaming climax, and then he'd exploded himself. What a morning it had been.
A questioning voice brought Bertie back to the mundane present.
“Sir?”
Bertie looked around the kitchen. “Did you say something, old thing?”
“I wondered if what I’ve prepared will be enough for tea, sir. We have cucumber sandwiches, cheese straws, tea cakes and a chocolate cake.”
Bertie tried to feign interest in the menu. “Did you make the olivey oily stuff for the cucumbers?”
“Yes, sir.” Jeeves placed a glass cover on the chocolate cake. “Mrs. Gregson favors it. She once complimented me on the flavor.”
Bertie frowned. “Surprising. Aunt A is really awfully rude to you, and there’s not much I can do about it. If we could be married...”
Jeeves placed a forefinger on Bertie’s lips. “I know, sir. I know you defend my honor as best you can, and I love you for that.”
Bertie slipped his arms around his valet’s waist and held him tight. “I love you, adore you, everything you, Jeeves. I just wish we didn’t have to hide it.”
Jeeves returned the embrace and kissed Bertie’s left temple. “I long for the same freedom, sir, the freedom to take your hand in front of others, to make a public declaration of my love for you. But I’m afraid we will have to remain circumspect until such time as men like ourselves are accepted into society.”
Bertie kissed Jeeves’ check and glanced at the clock.
“Good Lord, she’ll be here in five minutes,” he said.
“Time enough for a kiss, sir.”
He framed Bertie’s face in his large hands and Bertie almost stopped breathing as he gazed into Jeeves’ eyes. Such a deep, clear blue, he thought, like the sea on a stormy day.
Bertie closed his eyes as Jeeves’ lips touched his. No one was more proficient at the labial arts than Jeeves. After a first tentative exploration, their lips met fully and Bertie sighed as he felt his valet’s tongue caress his lower lip before sliding into his mouth.
Bertie slid one hand behind Jeeves’ neck and pulled his lover closer, deepening the kiss. He groaned as Jeeves latched onto his tongue, sucking it into his own mouth.
Bertie would have continued, but he felt Jeeves’ hands on his shoulders, gently but firmly ending the embrace.
“Mrs. Gregson, sir, will be here momentarily,” Jeeves said, kissing Bertie’s flushed cheek.
“Ah, Jeeves, a kiss like that would bring any man to his knees,” Bertie said as Jeeves returned his attention to the forthcoming tea party.
Jeeves lit the stove and set the kettle on the burner before answering.
“An intriguing image, sir, and one I would most like to view.”
Bertie raised his eyebrows and felt his lips split into a wide, foolish grin. “That could be arranged, my faithful valet.”
“Sir,” Jeeves said as he pulled on the black coat that covered his tempting backside. “I will finish preparing tea if you’ll greet Mrs. Gregson.”
“But, Jeeves, she’s not even here yet,” Bertie said.
An insistent knock rattled the door of the flat.
“Drat the bat,” Bertie said.
“An apt rhyme, sir, but we still must admit her.”
As Bertie moved toward the door he heard a slight cough.
“Yes, Jeeves?”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, you aren’t looking well. Perhaps you are even contagious.”
Bertie frowned. “But Jeeves, I’m fine. Never better. I...”
Then he grinned. “I wouldn’t want my aged Aunt A to catch some catching whatsit.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Bertie exited the kitchen, but returned in mere seconds.
“Shall I meet you in our room, in what say, a half hour?”
“Very good, sir.”