Rp for captjacksparrow

[bertiewwooster]

'Dash it, Jeeves, it's too bally early!'  He grumbles, still half asleep.  'If you're going to wake a chap up at an indecent hour like this you could at least bring him a cup of tea, what?'

But Jeeves doesn't answer.  There is no serene voice next to the bed saying 'My apologies, sir, but you had requested to be woken at this hour,' no cup of tea

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[captjacksparrow]

Jack swallows and looks over Bertie's shoulder, out the window to the overbright, grey sky. At least he assumes it's grey. Rarely is it anything else in London, it seems

[captjacksparrow]

The image of Berite got up with eyeblack fizzles from Jack's mind. He frowns, because he had been enjoying that image, but it suddenly doubles back on itself at the mention of a maid's uniform

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie swallows hard when Jack's fingers curl over his belly, his attention drawn immediately and irreversibly to the sudden, arresting evidence of his arousal. An... interesting reaction, certainly. Not exactly what Bertie had been expecting to the image of himself dressed up as a maid (personally he'd thought he looked a complete idiot at the time), but certainly not something he's going to complain about.

It is with an effort that he tears his eyes away and back up to Jack's face. The expression there does little to help, though, and he squirms slightly where he's sitting, trying to discreetly adjust himself within his shots.

'Er, well, not much of a story really.' He flounders. 'Just, you know- to get one's family out of the soup. A preux chevalier does what he can, even if that means, erm, getting up like a beazel.'

[captjacksparrow]

'Er, right,' Jack says, with every conviction that he believes Bertie. Which he does, in an odd way, despite not knowing half the things he talks about. Like what a beazel is. He figures it might be a girl, or a servant, or perhaps something else all together

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie startles horribly at the sudden pounding at the door, his eyes going wide like a small child with its hand caught in the cookie jar. His immediate reaction is to press his hands down over his groin, covering the embarrassing bulge there. When the person outside the door (and it sounds like the barkeep, whose bad side Bertie is not eager to get on) starts to shout, he casts around wildly for his clothes, scrambling up and tugging his trousers on, hopping on one foot and then the other in his eagerness.

He knows it's just the man wanting to clear up his rooms for business, but it feels very much to Bertie like being caught, as if Pickle's going to throw open the door with Sir Roderick Glossop and a fleet of coppers behind him. As if he's going to point and shout- 'Invert! Sodomite!' And Bertie's going to be dragged off to chokey for the rest of his life. It's horrible, the way the fear of this swamps him, sudden and irrational. Bertie isn't often afraid like this- why should he be, after all- but this is real and it

[captjacksparrow]

He notices that Bertie looks at least as panicked as Jack feels, if not more so, but he can't figure out why that is. Bertie doesn't dodge the law like Jack does. Seems, in fact, to be a lawful sort of man, straight and narrow, though not as strigent about as Norrington is. Or untruthful about it either.

Jack doesn't move as Bertie flails about for his clothes, except for sinking lower and lower against the floor. Jack's trousers are still nearby, as is his hat, but his shirt is halfway across the room and not reachable. As Bertie goes to answer the door, Jack slinks beneath the bed, hopeful that if Pickle comes with any sort of reinforcement, that at least he can shimmy out the door when provided with some distraction. He slips the trousers over his hips and tugs his hat along with him, using his elbows to crawl securely into the shadows.

As he half-listens to Bertie coax Pickle into letting them be, all Jack can hear is Norrington's voice rolling round and round inside his head. It is not just your life that hangs in the balance

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie blinks down at Jack, at him laughing. He doesn't really understand why anything about this situation ought to be remotely funny, and he shakes his head, rubbing at his temples and running a hand down his face. Despite himself, though, he finds a laugh- slightly hysterical- bubbling up out of his throat. The sick feeling of fear is subsiding now, leaving only the slightest of traces in the pit of his stomach and the edges of his mind, and he swallows down over the jittering little laugh.

Jack, for his part, seems to be taking this entirely in stride, and Bertie can't decide whether to be amused or envious of that. He grins up at Bertie, who exhales a long breath through his nose and pulls a face like an exaggerated grimace.

'You deal with that sort of thing all the time, then?' He asks, almost as much to return himself to calm reality as because he wants an answer. 'Hiding behind furniture from landlords baying for blood? Sounds a right jolly life, that.'

[captjacksparrow]

'The trick's to leave before the landlord even knows he's to be wanting any blood.' Which is his way of saying that he hasn't sat around like this, like he's done with Bertie, in a very long while. 'And I'm not hiding,' Jack corrects, knowing very well that's exactly what he's doing. 'I am extricating the possible circumstantial circumstance of temorarious, ermnrm, situations.' He widens his eyes like this should be obvious

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie's laugh is still more than a little panicked-sounded, and he looks down at Jack with an incredulous expression.

'Fun? Rather seems to me I've missed out on something completely. The "fun" part, mainly. Just about as enjoyable as having to listen to Honoria Glossop plan your wedding to the girl... And she is bally fearsome, let me tell you. Could rip this Wooster limb from limb if she took it into her onion to do so.'

Somehow, strangely, it's comforting to talk about Honoria, about the things he knows, even if they are rather... unpleasant. He'd rather deal with Honoria and all the rest of the Glossop clan than have to endure that sort of unreasoning fear any day. But Jack's looking up at him now, the angle making his eyes look even larger and darker than usual, and Bertie draws in a great draught of air.

Still got an hour, Jack says, his fingers stroking along Bertie's sockless calves under his trousers. And that they do. Another hour with Jack until he returns to Jeeves and to his flat and to his everyday life.

[captjacksparrow]

Bertie's laugh rattles Jack's nerves, the slight hysterical sound pinging unpleasant jolts of adreneline in his body. He frowns, gaze drifting to the window, feeling that everything would be bettter if he could both stay in this room forever and leave England immediately. It's terrifying to feel trapped, but it's comforting to be around Bertie, and if he has to be stuck somewhere, Jack's glad it's with him.

He frowns at Bertie's estimation of fun. It doesn't make sense to him, why Bertie can't see this for what it is. A little adventure in the middle of the morning. Nothing at all to get flustered over, now that it's over. Just Pickle, who has seen far worse than tennants a little delayed in the rent. And Bertie has nothing to hide in all this, nothing to worry over if someone comes knocking. Even if something had happened. But it didn't, and the only thing to be done about is forget it now

[bertiewwooster]

Jack's breath is faint and warm on Bertie's skin as the other man presses his mouth against the fabric of his clothes, and Bertie finds himself shifting slightly to assist him in tugging his trousers down around his ankles. The warmth of earlier is slowly trickling back into his belly, and an idea begins to form in his mind. It's hesitant at first, edging into the grey matter with a polite little cough, but Bertie holds onto it with a little grin to himself.

He shrugs down at Jack, feeling a little silly having to look so far down to talk to him. 'Dashed if I know.' The grin widens. 'Though I did rather imagine something a bit... Greek might be in order.'

[captjacksparrow]

The ridiculous smile that form on Jack's face, he hides against Bertie's hip. 'If that's what you prue...' Jack can't figure out how to say preux chevalier and skips past it. '...proper gentleman types are wanting to call it.'

Jack shifts to kneel directly in front of Bertie. His hands work to pool the trousers around Bertie's ankles and then move back up Bertie's leg, enjoying the wiry hair beneath his fingers. He presses an open-mouthed kiss on the curve of his hipbone, then another just inside it. He lifts Bertie's shirt tale so that he might kiss the soft skin of his belly, ghosting his lips along to Bertie's navel, creating a wet little trail.

'My type,' he says, and cast his eyes up. Holds Bertie on either side of his hips so that he can get the full idea of what Jack plans. 'We just call it buggery.'

[bertiewwooster]

A full-bodied shiver runs through him at Jack's voice, at the word he uses- buggery- and Bertie groans. There's something delightfully raw about it; no verbal beating around the bush or wavering for Jack, apparently. His hips twitch into the grip Jack has on either side of them, but he tries to hold himself back.

He tilts his head to look down at Jack. 'As corking as that sounds, old thing, I rather had some plans of my own which I'm quite keen to see through.'

[captjacksparrow]

Jack kisses his navel when Bertie groans, the sound connecting a direct like to Jack's groin. He shifts on his knees to keep from fidgeting to remove his trousers. He freezes when Bertie mentions plans, heat flaring in his veins.

'Shouldn't keep a man in suspense,' he tells Bertie's stomach, skating his hands down to the back of his thighs to pull him away from the door. 'Never know how quick plans tend to change.'

[bertiewwooster]

He can't help the little grin that twitches around his mouth when Jack suddenly tenses, when his voice when he speaks is rather rougher than usual. The blood in his veins is positively thrumming with anticipation now; it has been, after all, a very long time since he's done this. He shoulders himself off the door with a little wiggle and grins down at Jack.

'First things first though, what? This would be requiring something of a reversal of positions, if you take my meaning.'

And with that he tugs Jack up (seems it is useful being so much taller than the man after all) and drops to his knees before him. He winces a little at the hardness of the floor, which really is dashed unforgiving, and steadies himself with a soft hand on Jack's hip. And yes, it's been a while, but he's grinning as he nuzzles against the fabric of Jack's trousers, because he enjoys this. He looks up at Jack, eyes wide and glittering.

'I've been informed that old Bertram has quite a talent for this'

[captjacksparrow]

A hand strikes out to latch onto Bertie's arm as Jack stumbles a step backwards, unstable on the ground without something to prop him up. His mouth is open, he thinks. Jack is pretty sure he meant to do something by opening his mouth, but can't think of what that something might be. Say something, possibly, but nothing comes out. His mind has just gone incredibly, entirely empty except for the sight of Bertie on his knees before him and somehow managing to look both innocent and conniving at the same time.

'Nngh?'

He still has no idea what to say, and takes his time to lick his lips in order to figure something out. He swallows roughly, examining Bertie's face and neck and shoulders. He wishes he didn't still have his damn shirt on, but that's all right. Jack's not going to complain given the position he's in.

'Does he,' he asks very softly. 'Fortunate, then, that I have an affinity for it.' He moves his hand to pet Bertie's hair once, then touches his cheek, passing a finger across the corner of his mouth.