Jeeves and the Long Week
Nov. 26th, 2009 12:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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indeedsir_backupTitle: Jeeves and the Long Week
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: NC-17
Author: Pip
Words: 2,135
Summary: Every so often I am forced to leave Mr Wooster’s side for a temporary duration...
Jeeves has a long and tiring week away from the young master... fortunately the y. m. does everything in his power to help his man relax when he finally returns to the old homestead.
Every so often I am forced to leave Mr Wooster’s side for a temporary duration, usually accompanying an ailment in my family. Despite having no husband to care for her or the children, my sister is extremely capable and does not often call upon my loyalty to her or summon me to her home. But as is commonplace during the winter months, she like so many others caught a bout of head flu, and was nearly bedridden for the course of a week, therefore requiring my services.
It had, therefore, been a long and tiring week when I returned to the flat Mr Wooster and I share. Anticipating the wreckage that I beheld upon entering, I took almost immediately to straightening the flat and putting things to rights. I gathered within the first minute of my return, that Mr Wooster was not at home, and therefore likely at his club the Drones. It was mid-afternoon when I finished my tasks, and as I knew diner would not take more than an hour to prepare, and that Mr Wooster was not at home, I allowed myself to enter our bedroom in favour of a brief repose before I began working again.
I normally dislike sleeping in the master bed without Mr Wooster at my side, but my fatigue soon overcame what Mr Wooster would charmingly term the “feudal spirit”, and I found myself asleep within moments.
When I awoke, the first thing to register was the remarkable dark into which the once sunlit room had been plunged. I had slept much later than anticipated, this I was certain of, and under normal circumstances I would have immediately composed myself and continued my tasks with due expediency.
There was, however, a soothing motion keeping me in my sleep-induced, dazed state. A loving hand was running through the hair at the back of my head, down to the small of my neck, and back up to repeat the motion. The movement was gentle to say the least, and the combination of it with the light weight on my back confirmed the suspicion that Mr Wooster had returned home and found me.
“Sir?” I whispered, so as to not frighten him, but to make him aware of my wakefulness.
“Ah, Jeeves,” he replied after a time, in an equally soothing voice as the motion he was repeating. “Good evening, love.”
“Evening, sir? I do apologize; I shall continue my tasks immediately.” I would have made the motion to get up, but there was little I could do, and whether I wanted to fulfil my word or not was interfered by the strong desire to remain under my lover’s gentle hand and rest. Still, the motions continued and he remained in place on my back.
“Don’t concern yourself with anything, love. You stay here. I dined at the Drones, and if you’re hungry I’ll try my hand in the kitchen, if you’re not afraid of the potential consequences.” His consideration touched me, and I confess I very nearly heeded his words.
“Sir, I could not—there is much to see to.”
“Anything that can’t be seen to in the morning?” His breath was too warm on my cheek, his fingers too caressing in their trail along my neck, his words too melodious, and the feel of his lithe form against my less-completely-attired one was too sensual. I wanted to stay, and not to sleep. To give him a fair warning, I drew my hips slowly off the bed, and they pressed lightly against his own. This was enough—he was encouraged. “I thought not.”
Mr Wooster is an adoring and flattering lover, prone to enjoying intimate, sensual excitement before sexual excursions. That is to say, he is not afraid to take him time in admiring whatever qualities I seem to possess that hold his fondness.
This being said he took immediately to my suggestion with a low chuckle, and from where his head lay cradled in the crook of my neck, he bit lightly and playfully.
“I know, love. It’s been a long week for me, too. I mean I obviously didn’t have a maligned sister or troubled nieces to care for, but I always have a hard time without you here.” He said all of this pressed heavily against me, and I felt his heart beat firm and strong into my back. I shivered, and for the first time, turned to face him.
“Sir, how would you like me to compensate for my absence; I am deeply regretful.”
“Not at all, Jeeves; I’ll tell you what you can do, my dear. As you’ve pretty much tired yourself out—and don’t think I didn’t notice you cleaning up in the sitting and dining room—I’d care for you to lay here, and relax...could you do that for me, Jeeves?”
There was something in the ring of his voice that suggested I would not simply be lying on the bed unattended to, and so I gave my consent. Mr Wooster has a charming way of seeing to our needs in indirect and often adventurous ways, and I was just as eager to enjoy what he was silently preparing.
“It is as you wish, sir.” Encouraged, I ventured to press once more against him with my hips, and he responded in kind by pressing back through the blanket and trousers that separated us.
“My man,” he whispered fondly into my ear, turning down the bedspread. “Oh, Jeeves, my man.” I shifted slightly under his scrutiny, nearly feeling the warmth from his gaze heat up my back. All too soon the perceived sensation of warmth dissipated, and I felt Mr Wooster leave his place on the bed. I heard his footsteps move towards what I calculated to be the window, but he soon returned, and I thought I heard a small, familiar sigh.
I turned my head toward the window he’d just visited, and my eyes met with beams of moonlight that scattered the room—the bed was under the same such light, and the newly-intensified heat of his gaze told me he was indulging his first sense.
“Beautiful.” I heard him say, and may or may not have blushed under his ardour. I heard then a lid being unscrewed, and I recognized it immediately as the jar of oil Mr Wooster keeps in his breast-pocket as a precaution for our more intimate activities. I felt another shiver of anticipation, but my senses were left slightly shocked, when the feel of warm oil on soft hands made its presence on my shoulder blades. The scent of the oil assaulted my nostrils in a remarkably pleasant manner, and as he sighed, I knew it had been another step in his indulgences, his second sense.
He rubbed and pressured the flesh beneath him with ease and confidence, and I felt waves of desire crash over my entire frame with each massaging, circular motion. The third sense.
“Jeeves, you’re so beautiful like this. I swear on my Code that I’ve dreamt of this before.”
“I feel an extremely similar sentiment, sir.” I’m unsure of how I found the words as my throat had been lodged, and my voice felt hoarse with the nearly maddening desire that continued to drown me.
“I can see why; you look so relaxed.”
“I am sorry, sir.” But for some reason, I wasn’t. For some reason I’m sure I wanted nothing more than the love and adoration he was giving me in such abundance.
“Please don’t be, Jeeves. I love seeing you relaxed.” He moved his pressure further down my back along my spine. His hands—those beautiful, long, lean, hands, so like their owner. And like their owner they seemed to work wonders upon me that nothing else could accomplish. They put me in a state of utter ease while pushing me into the deepest ocean of intense desire that only they could fulfil. He continued down and paid particular attention to the small of my back which tapered into hips and behind he constantly admired and praised me for.
“You really do feel incredibly tense, love. Particularly, here.” He ran his fingers gently—far, far too gently—up my back, to my shoulder blades, and back to my ribs, then placed his hands on my buttocks.
“Sir, I assure you the majority of the tensions in those regions have been predominantly dissipated with your attentions. However, there are other tensions which, I would be grateful to you to attend to, sir.”
I need have said nothing more. My master took to this request with due expediency, slipping his hands from where they grasped at my bottom to the organ that lay pressed between my middle and the sheet, weeping desperately. He urged my hips up and grasped my cockstand, bringing me closer to him in the process.
“It’s as you wish, Jeeves,” he whispered hoarsely into my ear, and began his much-needed attentions.
At first he made only a few long, full strokes from the base to the tip, but continued his adoring praises.
“Jeeves, Jeeves, love, I missed you. I missed this. I love you.” He breathed hoarsely, almost desperately against my neck, and held me faster to him; from through the wool of his trousers I could feel his impressive hardness firm against my behind.
“Sir, faster please.”
He followed suit. “No need to say please, Jeeves. And drop the sir. Tell me what you need—say the word—you deserve it in tenfold, old thing.” His voice raised in pitch and volume, commanding me to command him. The fourth sense.
My peak came too fast, too hard, and too far before I could prepare. I cried out to him, shouted his name to the ceiling, the roof, the stars and the sky.
And before I could see straight I felt myself being turned and lain gently on my back; he soothed my hair with, I judged, the hand not covered in my seed. I felt his depression on the bed lessen, heard him promise to return tout suite; he did so with a warm, damp towel and a kiss on my brow.
I opened my eyes and gazed into his with the fondness of a life-long lover, and mused upon my good fortune in finding one such as him. I took it upon myself then to indulge his final sense, and pressed my lips to his in a forceful kiss. He took to it with paramount interest, and threw his still-trousered leg over my hips. He brought himself up and straddled me, while I took to unbuttoning his flies, and released his member.
Our need for air eventually overcame us and I, already lightheaded, urged him wordlessly to switch places with me.
“Jeeves, you’re tired, don’t—” He hissed and fell silent once I took his erection into my mouth, and from then on the only noise was the occasional groan which escaped his lips to urge me on. As his urgency grew, his hips thrust upwards with increasing speed and met my mouth with more and more force. I pushed his hips down with my hands, wanting to take control and thank him for his kind considerations.
He laughed breathlessly and gasped, “If you insist” as though he’d heard my thoughts as commanding words. Then, after a few more exertions from root to tip, my master cried out my name, giving me the fair warning, as the gentleman he is, that the end was nigh.
My head swam; still I was determined not to give the slightest pause while Mr Wooster reached his climax. He did so with the force of a desperate, determined man with longing and need. He cried out for me once more, and as his convulsions lessened he hissed my name through clenched jaw, along with unintelligible words that I gathered to be the sentiments he reserves for moments such as these; when filth and sweet nothings blend together in a post-euphoria dialogue.
Once he was in the recovering stage, I trailed gently as I could up his panting, shaken frame. His heart hammered into my ear as I laid my head against his beloved breast.
“Jeeves,” He said, breathless still but with strong sincerity present in his whispering voice. “Jeeves... perfect.” He lifted his tired eyes to mine (or tried, and then decided against it, his head dropping back onto the pillow) and sighed happily when the words had passed. We lapsed into silence, giving pause for the time we had to spend apart, and for the time that would eventually come when I would be called from him again; mostly, however, we laid together in satisfied silence, for the time that we had together between these hated times was precious, and not to be wasted on reiterating the obvious.
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no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 07:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 07:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 08:24 am (UTC)This is hot and sexy and loving, all at once. Good show.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 09:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 11:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 04:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-02 12:42 pm (UTC)I mean I obviously didn’t have a maligned sister or troubled nieces to care for,
Just so you know, "maligned" means someone's been talkin' smack and dissing his sister. You might have been thinking of malingering, which means pretending to be ill so you can be lazy, but I'm sure he wouldn't have maligned her by saying she was malingering. :)
Well thank you...
Date: 2009-12-03 12:01 am (UTC)So, thank you for your read and feedback,
And if you've any suggestions on how to fix it so that others don't think I misused the word it would be appreciated.
;) Have a good one.
Re: Well thank you...
Date: 2009-12-03 02:03 am (UTC)I think usually Bertie realizes there's something not quite right with the word as he starts to use it, although usually he starts out on the right track and it seems to be a 'sounds like' or 'starts out sounding like' situation. So, I mean, there should be a word he's reaching for, the word he hits is almost there, and he usually asks Jeeves if that was the word he wanted, because he knows it's not quite right.
ignore me
Date: 2009-12-06 12:40 am (UTC)(moment of silence as he keeps feeling Jeeves up) Is maligned the word I want, Jeeves?
I believe you mean 'malingering', sir, and I can assure you that she was not.
And just 'well, that makes it suck even more, let me get back to molesting you' and onward. XD
Sorry, I'm not prone to ignoring people
Date: 2009-12-06 02:33 am (UTC)Re: Sorry, I'm not prone to ignoring people
Date: 2009-12-06 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 05:53 am (UTC)