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[sunsetsinthewes.livejournal.com]

I hadn't meant to immediately begin spamming this community nightly, but that seems to be what is happening. Either way, I bring another fic. Again, any help or suggestions regarding any possible way I might improve will be met with endless appreciation.

Title: Against the Clock
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster, established
Summary: After receiving notice that Aunt Agatha plans to drop by, Jeeves helps distract Bertie from the impending doom. Shameless PWP, utterly shameless.
Rating: R
Words: 1,002
Disclaimer: The only things that belongs to me are the inevitable grammatical errors.

***

"Telegram, sir."

Slowly, I peeked a rather stern eye out from beneath the blankets, turning its full wrath loose on my manservant. "Jeeves, have we not discussed this?"

"We have, sir."

"Have we not thoroughly discussed this?"

"Yes, sir."

"If memory serves, have we not thoroughly discussed this more than once?"

"I believe that is correct, sir."

"In fact," I continued, tossing the blankets from the form as I sat up, "I distinctly recall insisting all telegrams, telephone calls, visitors, and other assorted forms of contact with the outside world wait until well after the daily Darjeeling." Sighing, I held out my hand. "Well, Jeeves, give it to me."

A hint of a smirk played about the man's lips as he handed the telegram over.

"None of that," I chastised, snatching the paper from him. "You can't possibly expect to wake me at such an ungodly hour and still be rewarded, now can you?" After taking in the contents of the correspondence, I groaned.

Jeeves glided across the room, stopping to pick up the discarded clothes from the night before. "If I may say so, sir, my sentiments exactly."

"You may say so. I mean, most distressing news, what?" After all, even a chap of the stickiest courage would consider a luncheon with Aunt Agatha to be a daunting task. Stronger men than I have crumbled beneath the pressure of the challenge. "Best to shine the silver, fry the fish, and get on with it, I suppose."

"Sound advice, sir. Shall I run the bath?"

"Yes, yes, no time to waste."

***

It was nearly two hours later that I stood before my man, the dark meal fast approaching. "I see no problem with the green tie, Jeeves. You're simply going too far this time."

"Sir, the navy--"

"It's a fetching sort of green, what?"

"Certainly, sir." I allowed myself a brief grin of triumph before he continued, "I have personally seen a great deal of the most alluring tropical toads in the same shade."

"Now see here!" For a few moments we stood before each other, facing off. Before long, though, I felt my resolve begin to slip under the scrutinizing gaze meeting my own. "All right, all right. I concede, for now. But mind that this is merely one battle of the war."

As Jeeves smiled slightly, taking the tie from my hand and reaching for the previously mentioned navy one, I considered the benefits of defeat. He ignored me as I reached for the article, choosing instead to knot it around my neck himself. Slowly, he made as if to straighten my collar, fingers brushing against my throat.

"Jeeves," I warned, attempting to steer him back to the matter at hand. I got no further than that, surprised to find his lips lightly tracing the arch of my neck.

"My apologies, sir," he murmured, not sounding one bit apologetic. "I could not resist."

"Well, resist we must," I tried. It seemed to be getting more and more difficult to follow my own orders, though-- the man's hands can do the most delightful things when determined. "Aunt Agatha--"

"--Is not due for another ten minutes, sir," Jeeves finished before covering my lips with his own.

Well, that did it. As I'm sure, dear readers, none of you have experienced the heady thing that is a kiss from Jeeves (at least, I should hope not), you will have to trust me when I say that said k. f. J. has a rather pleasant side effect of clearing the mind of all thoughts not directly related to the act. Before I knew what was happening my arms were circled around him and my mouth was eagerly parting. It's a dashed rummy thing, the way those kisses seem to control the old corpus without consent.

Jeeves lifted a hand to the back of my head, lightly resting, while the other gently stroked along the front of my waistcoat. "Sir, may I--"

How could I say no? "Anything, old thing, just quickly."

And quickly he did. Why, no sooner had self given the all clear then my trousers were open and a hand was making introductions with a rather intimate portion of my anatomy. I would have taken a moment to wonder how the marvel did it had I been able to wonder anything at all.

Groaning, I pressed myself closer to resume those wonderful k.es f. J. as an overwhelming sensation began to take place. Mindful of the answering hardness pressing into my thigh, I moved my own hand between us to fumble with my man's flies and give him a reciprocating introduction, as it were. Before long we were reduced to a frantic pair, wildly rutting into one another's grip.

"Sir," he gasped, forehead against mine as his hips began to stutter. "Sir, you--"

I never did find out what Jeeves meant to say, as his release chose just that moment to strike. His hand faltered for the briefest of seconds while he caught his breath. Thankfully, he resumed his ministrations soon after.

"Jeeves," I panted, one hand tightening on his hip. "Jeeves, nearly-- I can't seem to-- to--"

He understood me perfectly, leaning in to breathe against my ear, "Let go. For me, Bertram, let go."

Well, I say. I mean, I say. An absolutely corking spark seemed to shoot down my spine at that, signaling the beginning of the end. Turned the legs right to jelly, it did.

When I came back to earth I found myself gasping, "Toss the blasted green tie, Jeeves. You've earned it."

He smiled, seemingly producing a handkerchief out of thin air and cleaning away any possible evidence of our encounter. It was like watching a magical transformation occur-- why, no sooner had he finished righting the both of us into presentable states did the doorbell sound.

"I must say, Jeeves," I remarked, glancing into the mirror to find myself looking better than new, "Suddenly the luncheon seems positively bearable. Rummiest thing, what?"

"Indeed, sir."

***

*collapses* Phew.