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indeedsir_backup2010-10-15 09:16 pm
hazeltea.livejournal.com) wrote in indeedsir_backup2010-10-15 09:16 pm
Fic: Redemption, part 13 (NC-17)
This has been rattling around in my brain since I read Yours, Plum: The Letters of P.G. Wodehouse a few years ago.I wanted to try continuing the 1953 fanfic by J. Maclaren-Ross , which was lovingly trascribed here by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaoticchaos13
Pairing:Jeeves/Bertie
Disclaimer: I make no profit from the lovely world of Wodehouse.
Part 1: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/849688.html#cutid1
Part 2: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/851698.html#cutid1
Part 3: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/853433.html#cutid1
Part 4: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/854770.html#cutid1
Part 5: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/856387.html#cutid1
Part 6: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/861280.html#cutid1
Part 7: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/864721.html#cutid1
Part 8: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/867046.html#cutid1
Part 9: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/870100.html#cutid1
Part 10: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/871794.html#cutid1
Part 11: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/875432.html#cutid1
Part 12: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/876502.html#cutid1
Days passed in which I attempted to seduce Jeeves. Emboldened by his interest, I pressed my case, first in words.
“…but dash it, Jeeves-“ somehow was as much of an argument as I could manage, before he’d kiss me soundly and change the subject, and biff off to work or to meet with some stuffy old birds. I was left, dazed by his considerable skill, waiting; and that night he slept contentedly in his Wooster-less bed. I tossed fitfully in my own, knowing that I would not feel at ease until I’d claimed the man for my own. His kisses were delightful, or course, but the dreamlike quality they induced in me left me unsettled, as though I’d awaken to find that I’d merely been imagining the fleeting touch.
I did dream, as well, which added to the anxiety- one moment pressed against the man I adored, followed by the realization that I was merely rutting into the guest bed mattress. I’d never ‘fallen’, as romance minded coves say, not like this. I’ve been smitten many times, of course, but the disappointment of a broken engagement or the ache of a chap growing tired of me was nothing to this feeling, that Jeeves himself was so close, yet out of my grasp.
Jeeves. I’d never dared to pursue the man, he was always beyond me. First, of course, as
my servant – and while his smooth, handsome form had always fascinated me, a gentleman does not take liberties with his entourage, ever. I worshiped him, of course, but I would not submit the finest man I’d ever known to abuse, and risk losing him. If anyone of my own acquaintance had dared to take a liberty with him, after all, I felt certain that I’d beat the bounder within an inch of his life, or cripple myself trying. How much of this was Noblesse oblige, and how much of it was my own insecure jealousy? He had always muddled my heart’s urges. To lose him to another man was always a terror at the back of my mind- I might not make love to him, but I could keep him in my life. He doted on me as though I was a god, and one does get used to that rather quickly.
I’d sobbed like a lost boy when he’d left me. What was life, without a man to look after you? What was life without the servant who had become my dearest friend in the world? I hadn’t known suffering in my life before then, spoilt child that I was. He deserved to be the lord in this, and I was grateful to polish his boots and serve him tea- only I wanted to do so much more, as well. My mind wandered then, to the aftermath of the Drones, when I’d taken up the mattress for my wages. Slave games, they’d called them. Which of the Drones they were I cannot say, for they wore masks. Certainly not my close friends, or I would know their voices. They’d fitted me in a collar and cuffs, and not much else, straps of leather about my bits, ordering me this way and that. There had been money in it, such good money, until one day they had gone too far.
“Drink it down, Jeeves, there’s a good boy.” One of them had mocked me. I bit him. He struck me. They grew bored of the game, and for a time I had no visitors at all.
I schemed to take advantage of Jeeves’ kissing wheeze after the first few days. I waited until he was absorbed in some dry looking documents before bringing his tea. I set the tray down, and kissed him gently at the temple, where the inky black locks were beginning to gray.
“Thank you, sir.” He said, reaching out to kiss me in that soft, firm way that he has. I eased into the kiss, and deepened it, sliding into his lap as I did so. I didn’t let him part completely, but came back for several more soft caresses of his lower lip, before easing my tongue across it. He groaned, despite his incredible iron resolve. I wiggled a bit on his lap, in the hopes of getting the better of him. “I love you more than bally well anything.” I whispered. “Let me show you…”
His kisses became increasingly chaste. “Sweetest, dearest Bertram.” He sighed. “I do adore you, sir.” And with that, I found myself placed gently on my feet, a respectable distance apart. Such rejection is a difficult thing for a negligible mind clouded with lust to comprehend, and I retreated to catch my breath and will my arousal to subside.
I fretted in the kitchen, my fingers trailing over the neat letters of the Times crossword puzzle. Oh, good lord, I realized, he does his crossword in biro. How could I ever hope to outwit him? I swished about some whiskey in a glass and pondered. He’d kissed me, he’d confessed adoration, and yet… he knew that I was his, completely. This was not a question of me making up my mind, and him playing the gentleman. He was an invert, he was physically able (for I’d felt the hardness in the seat of his lap), yet Bertram wasn’t up to snuff, despite this.
A glass or two later, I had my answer. He must think I was a dirty thing. He’d scooped me up from a degenerate life, after all, and must think that I was as mangy and infested as a sailor. The thought was sobering, but a lifetime of optimism had given me strength. Why, I’d simply lay it on the table, and tell him I was fit as a fiddle. He could take a look at me himself if he’d like, in fact, I’d encourage it.
Unless, of course, his hesitation was a question of moral cleanliness. I hadn’t exactly been conducting myself in the ways of an upstanding English gentleman these past few years, after all, and he was a lord now, with a cabinet seat. I’d bet my good suit that he could call the Queen herself by her Christian name and not be reprimanded. For a moment I wondered if perhaps the clergy might have some advice for me, but then I remembered that Stinker was the only man of the cloth I felt safe telling my secret to. Since my secret was now Jeeves’ as well, that was absolutely out of the question. For a moment, I wished that he weren’t so bally well perfect, but I knew even then that if he wasn’t, I couldn’t love him in the way that I did.
chaoticchaos13 Pairing:Jeeves/Bertie
Disclaimer: I make no profit from the lovely world of Wodehouse.
Part 1: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/849688.html#cutid1
Part 2: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/851698.html#cutid1
Part 3: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/853433.html#cutid1
Part 4: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/854770.html#cutid1
Part 5: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/856387.html#cutid1
Part 6: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/861280.html#cutid1
Part 7: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/864721.html#cutid1
Part 8: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/867046.html#cutid1
Part 9: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/870100.html#cutid1
Part 10: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/871794.html#cutid1
Part 11: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/875432.html#cutid1
Part 12: http://community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/876502.html#cutid1
Days passed in which I attempted to seduce Jeeves. Emboldened by his interest, I pressed my case, first in words.
“…but dash it, Jeeves-“ somehow was as much of an argument as I could manage, before he’d kiss me soundly and change the subject, and biff off to work or to meet with some stuffy old birds. I was left, dazed by his considerable skill, waiting; and that night he slept contentedly in his Wooster-less bed. I tossed fitfully in my own, knowing that I would not feel at ease until I’d claimed the man for my own. His kisses were delightful, or course, but the dreamlike quality they induced in me left me unsettled, as though I’d awaken to find that I’d merely been imagining the fleeting touch.
I did dream, as well, which added to the anxiety- one moment pressed against the man I adored, followed by the realization that I was merely rutting into the guest bed mattress. I’d never ‘fallen’, as romance minded coves say, not like this. I’ve been smitten many times, of course, but the disappointment of a broken engagement or the ache of a chap growing tired of me was nothing to this feeling, that Jeeves himself was so close, yet out of my grasp.
Jeeves. I’d never dared to pursue the man, he was always beyond me. First, of course, as
my servant – and while his smooth, handsome form had always fascinated me, a gentleman does not take liberties with his entourage, ever. I worshiped him, of course, but I would not submit the finest man I’d ever known to abuse, and risk losing him. If anyone of my own acquaintance had dared to take a liberty with him, after all, I felt certain that I’d beat the bounder within an inch of his life, or cripple myself trying. How much of this was Noblesse oblige, and how much of it was my own insecure jealousy? He had always muddled my heart’s urges. To lose him to another man was always a terror at the back of my mind- I might not make love to him, but I could keep him in my life. He doted on me as though I was a god, and one does get used to that rather quickly.
I’d sobbed like a lost boy when he’d left me. What was life, without a man to look after you? What was life without the servant who had become my dearest friend in the world? I hadn’t known suffering in my life before then, spoilt child that I was. He deserved to be the lord in this, and I was grateful to polish his boots and serve him tea- only I wanted to do so much more, as well. My mind wandered then, to the aftermath of the Drones, when I’d taken up the mattress for my wages. Slave games, they’d called them. Which of the Drones they were I cannot say, for they wore masks. Certainly not my close friends, or I would know their voices. They’d fitted me in a collar and cuffs, and not much else, straps of leather about my bits, ordering me this way and that. There had been money in it, such good money, until one day they had gone too far.
“Drink it down, Jeeves, there’s a good boy.” One of them had mocked me. I bit him. He struck me. They grew bored of the game, and for a time I had no visitors at all.
I schemed to take advantage of Jeeves’ kissing wheeze after the first few days. I waited until he was absorbed in some dry looking documents before bringing his tea. I set the tray down, and kissed him gently at the temple, where the inky black locks were beginning to gray.
“Thank you, sir.” He said, reaching out to kiss me in that soft, firm way that he has. I eased into the kiss, and deepened it, sliding into his lap as I did so. I didn’t let him part completely, but came back for several more soft caresses of his lower lip, before easing my tongue across it. He groaned, despite his incredible iron resolve. I wiggled a bit on his lap, in the hopes of getting the better of him. “I love you more than bally well anything.” I whispered. “Let me show you…”
His kisses became increasingly chaste. “Sweetest, dearest Bertram.” He sighed. “I do adore you, sir.” And with that, I found myself placed gently on my feet, a respectable distance apart. Such rejection is a difficult thing for a negligible mind clouded with lust to comprehend, and I retreated to catch my breath and will my arousal to subside.
I fretted in the kitchen, my fingers trailing over the neat letters of the Times crossword puzzle. Oh, good lord, I realized, he does his crossword in biro. How could I ever hope to outwit him? I swished about some whiskey in a glass and pondered. He’d kissed me, he’d confessed adoration, and yet… he knew that I was his, completely. This was not a question of me making up my mind, and him playing the gentleman. He was an invert, he was physically able (for I’d felt the hardness in the seat of his lap), yet Bertram wasn’t up to snuff, despite this.
A glass or two later, I had my answer. He must think I was a dirty thing. He’d scooped me up from a degenerate life, after all, and must think that I was as mangy and infested as a sailor. The thought was sobering, but a lifetime of optimism had given me strength. Why, I’d simply lay it on the table, and tell him I was fit as a fiddle. He could take a look at me himself if he’d like, in fact, I’d encourage it.
Unless, of course, his hesitation was a question of moral cleanliness. I hadn’t exactly been conducting myself in the ways of an upstanding English gentleman these past few years, after all, and he was a lord now, with a cabinet seat. I’d bet my good suit that he could call the Queen herself by her Christian name and not be reprimanded. For a moment I wondered if perhaps the clergy might have some advice for me, but then I remembered that Stinker was the only man of the cloth I felt safe telling my secret to. Since my secret was now Jeeves’ as well, that was absolutely out of the question. For a moment, I wished that he weren’t so bally well perfect, but I knew even then that if he wasn’t, I couldn’t love him in the way that I did.
no subject
I think that as indeed sir is on my friend list so all the member of this community can have a look. And it seems i am wrong...
I change it so that everyone can see now! Pls. try again~
no subject
Yeah, for some reason the friends seeing your posts only works with induividual users, not communities- I guess because there are a lot of strangers in communities so you'd really have no way to filter private posts otheriwise. Livejournal can be confusing, but once you get used to it, it's the best site!