Fic: Troubled Times chapter 33 Part 2

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The record ended. Mr. Wooster gazed into my eyes and said, “Thou art my rainbow in the storms of life; the evening beam that smiles the clouds away.”

 

I answered, “I love you with a love that is more than a love.”

 

He leaned toward me. I met him halfway, one hand coming up to rub his arm. He whispered against my lips, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.”

 

My mouth fell open to allow him entry, and his tongue glided within. It was warm and moist and flavoured with wine. I savoured the taste of him and cherished being in his embrace. I captured his tongue, sucking it, until we both needed air. I could discern his passion in the quivers in his body and the feel of his hard erection pressing urgently against me. My hands inched down, making gentle circles over his clothes as they went. His breathing quickened, and I slid my hands inward for a brief, teasing touch over his arousal before releasing him.

 

The phonograph behind us began making an unpleasant noise. Taking a deep breath, I said, “An advantage of the piano is that it does not complain if one ignores it.”

 

Still breathless, Mr. Wooster managed only half a laugh.

 

“I have a few matters to attend to before bed. I will help you in undressing, and...”

 

Mr. Wooster shook his head. “No, Jeeves. Everything will go faster if I undress myself, and let you do whatever you need to do. I promise to put my threads away neatly.” He grinned at me. “No slinging or tossing of the drapery.”

 

“Very good, sir.”

 

His steps were swift to the bedroom. Joining him some ten minutes later, I found him sprawled across the bed, legs opened wide, his hand slowly stroking his erection. A gasp escaped my lips and my eyes were affixed to his hand as it lingered over his member. His thumb swiped the drops of fluid at the head of his rigid length spreading it over the glans. I was captive to passion, held motionless by love and desire.

The spell was broken by his command, “I'm waiting for you, Reggie.”

I made fast work of removing my clothes and identity disc, my body so hard that it was almost a painful sensation. Mr. Wooster had left a lamp on, and I was very aware that he was watching me closely. His hand continued its steady rhythm but when my last item of clothing was discarded and I turned to him, he moaned, “By Jove, Reggie, you're a real corker!”

Eagerly, I climbed into bed next to him, and shifted to my side to face him. Nestling into his neck, I said, “I love the way you smell when aroused. All heat and fire. I remember well when we first made love. I knew I would never forget your scent, and I would never have enough of it.”

His voice was low and husky as he responded, “I love the freedom to touch you. There are times when I still can't believe that such a wonder as you are would allow me to be free with you.” As he spoke, Mr. Wooster began caressing my thigh in agonising slow motions, up and down, up and down.

I managed, “That I should love a bright particular star and think to wed it, he is so above me. You're my star.”

I could not prevent a gasp as he took hold of my erection and lightly stroked it. Pausing at the top, his thumb gently rubbed over the head, and I arched into his touch, a cry of bliss leaving my lips. Fingers played with a nipple, idly plucking at the tip, and I began to pant with need. Mr. Wooster whispered in my ear, “Love you, Jeeves. Love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Leaning back, I reached over and seized the lotion that I had placed by the bed earlier that evening. Offering it to him I said, “I want you.”

Concerned blue eyes met mine. “Jeeves? We played a little rough this am. and you have to be feeling it.”

I smiled. “I seem to recall encouraging you.” Gazing into his eyes, I stated, “I want you inside me.” His fingers playing with my testicles made further speech impossible. I pressed the jar into his free hand.

As soon as Mr. Wooster had coated his fingers, I let my legs fall open to give him access to my body. When he placed himself between my splayed legs, my eyes fluttered shut. A finger massaged my entrance before carefully slipping inside. A tremble ran through my body from the pleasurable sensation and the slight ache that came from the vigorous intimacy we had shared that morning.

“Deeper,” I uttered. “Please.” I pushed down against him, longing for more.

Far too slowly, his digit inched forward. “Please, more,” I urged.

Another finger joined the first, and both glided in deep. He rained kisses on my hip, and I spread my legs wider, delighting in the warmth of his lips against my skin, and his fingers delving so intimately inside me.

Minutes later, Mr. Wooster carefully eased his digits out. Opening my eyes to gaze on his beloved features, I asked, “How do you want me?”

“I wish to see your face.” Grasping the lotion, he coated his arousal with quick, hurried movements. His eagerness matched my own, and once he had finished, I tugged on his arm to signal my readiness.

Mr. Wooster's weight settled on me; heavy with the promise of euphoria. Of their own accord, my legs wrapped around his waist. I gave him a slight nudge with my heels to indicate my need.

His member pushed against my opening, breaching me easily. Slowly, gently he moved forward; the penetration a mixture of delight and burn due to our morning activities.

A breathless whisper of my name caused me to open my eyes to see him gazing at me with such love that my heart's feelings outweighed my body's needs and all I was aware of was my love for him. His body was trembling, and I ran my fingers over his chest; the hair there like silk under my touch. My caress was rewarded with a moan of elation from him.

Mr. Wooster shifted, and his erection moved across my prostate. My eyes shut again, and my head fell back onto the pillow as I lost myself in the bliss of feeling him move within me. A soft whimper of happiness erupted from him. He began a steady, slow rhythm over that special place, and I could not prevent the cries wrung me. I arched up to meet each thrust.

His breathless words filled my ears and echoed in my heart. “Nothing I wouldn't give you. Only for you. I belong to you, and...” There was a pause as he gained breath, “... you are mine.”

“Yours,” I moaned out. Reaching out, I clasped his waist, tugging him forward until we were as close as we could possibly be.

Mr. Wooster's erection slid back and forth over my prostate, his voice continually whispering love to me, and my ecstasy spiralled higher and higher. Anticipating my need my spouse's fingers wrapped around my flesh. Never breaking his pace, he thrust hard and deep, his hand gliding over my length. Rapture cradled me in its arms and my peak was tantalisingly close.

In my ear, Mr. Wooster said, “Give it all to me, Jeeves,” as if he was commanding my release.

My body responded as fire flamed throughout it. Crying out his name, I was submerged in such delight that my entire frame clenched with it. My seed splattered over both of us.

It was many long moments before I could breathe again, my breath still coming in harsh pants. Eventually, I became aware that Mr. Wooster was still unfulfilled and had slowed his thrusts. I looked up at him, and realised that being conscious of how much I loved to watch him achieve gratification, he had waited for my pleasure to complete itself.

Inhaling deeply, I gave him a short nod, my attention staying on Mr. Wooster's face. His head fell back, his body tensed, and he planted himself deeply inside me. I tightened around him once more, and his bliss arrived. I feasted on the expression of sheer delectation on his face and the sounds of his joy, cherishing every second of it.

Mr. Wooster dropped gently onto me. I wrapped my arms around him, and now I could feel as well as hear his gasps. I rubbed his back with firm strokes and whispered, “I love you.”

When his respiration started to ease, I said, “All those years ago, and you are still as handsome as the day I first saw you. I love seeing you like this; it reminds me of my first glimpse of you. Your hair was unruly then, too.”

To my surprise his body quivered and breathless laughter was smothered in my neck. “Did I say something that amused you?”

I could feel him gather breath to speak and then he said, “The unruly hair part. I thought you were going to say I was a mess then, too.”

“Certainly not. You were beautiful then, you are beautiful now.”

Mr. Wooster’s arms tightened around me, and he said, “I love you, too, Jeeves, more than life itself.”

We held onto each other for a time. His body was warm and heavy upon me. It was with reluctance that he separated from me. He said, “You're going to be feeling it, old chap.”

I barely prevented a wince as the soreness I had hardly been aware of before suddenly became intense. Putting amusement in my voice, I replied, “I already am.”

Mr. Wooster rubbed my arm and then rolled off me. “I'll draw you a bath and bung in some of that oil you dash into it when I'm sore, what?”

I nodded. “That would be nice, thank you.”

I moved to my side so I could see into the convenience and spent the next few minutes happily watching him walk around undressed. When all was in readiness, I joined him in the convenience, sliding into the warm water with a sigh of contentment. Mr. Wooster tossed two towels onto the floor and placed another behind my back. Sitting on the towels next to the bathtub, he began to clean me, his touch soothing and loving.

I said, “Happy birthday, Bertie.”

“Thank you, Reggie.”

***************************************************

We had just finished breakfast at the canteen when a messenger came to our table and stated, “Mr. Chandler wants to see you in his office, Mr. Wooster.”

These summons were not unusual and usually just meant we were to be given a task different from our normal routine. Our unit lingered at the table, waiting for Mr. Wooster's return. When he returned, Mr. Wooster said, “Wright, you should have another niece or nephew sometime soon. You're dismissed to go home. Heffie, you're dismissed, also. You're both due back next week.”

The two stood and almost in unison said, “Thank you, sir.”

Before they had reached the door, the speculating on whether the infant was a girl or boy had commenced. Howard called out, “Wait a minute, Will. Before you fade, tell us; boy or girl? What do you think?”

Turning back to us, Wright said, “Dave and Ruth want a girl. They have three boys.”

Roy said, “Yes, but what do you think? Boy or girl?”

Very confidently, Wright stated, “Boy.”

Ralph asked, “You'll ameche after the baby is born, what?”

“I will.”

I noticed that no one thought it odd that Mr. Heflner had been dismissed, as well. As Wright's employer there was no reason for him to join the man's family at this time. I suspected that the exciting news about the baby was foremost on everyone's minds and the fact that the two men were always together added with Mr. Wooster dismissing them both in a manner that suggested it was perfectly normal kept suspicious thoughts at bay.

The day went by slowly as we awaited news. On our way to our rooms to rest, Mr Wooster and I fell behind the other men so we could talk privately, if either of us wished to.

Mr. Wooster asked, “So what do you think, Jeeves, male or female?”

“I believe the infant will be a boy, sir.”

“Because Wright thinks so?”

“Yes, sir, and because his previous guess proved to be correct. The baby was not due until the 16^th. Wright has asserted from the beginning that the infant would arrive sometime around the 6^th. Today being the 7^th, I would say that there is a good chance his belief will prove to be a correct one.”

Our group was in the canteen eating dinner when Mr. Wooster was once more summoned; this time because there was a telephone call for him. When he arrived back, everyone ceased dining, and Andy asked, “How are Mum and babe doing?”

“Both are fine.” He grinned and said nothing more. Sitting down he took a bite of his roast chicken while his men stared at him.

Oscar put down his fork and said, “Boy or girl?”

Mr. Wooster slowly swallowed the piece of chicken he was chewing before saying, “Boy.”

A flurry of questions followed. “What's his name? How much does the baby weigh? Are they disappointed that the newborn is a boy?”

Putting his cup on the table, Mr. Wooster said, “William James. 7 pounds and 6 oz. No. Wright said they are ecstatic. He's a tall one; 21 inches. Wright thinks he will be as tall as his father when he's an adult.”

The mood among our unit became one of happiness and cheer. William James' birth was a clear assurance that life continued despite the war and the hardships it brought upon us.

*******************************************

We spent Christmas at the farm, doing guard duty at the factory. When we were not on guard duty, we spent a great deal of time in a break room with other men listening to the wireless and playing cards. On the 24^th, we listened to Nine Lessons and Carols while waiting our turn at darts. I was sad over Roberts' death and feeling miserable because the present time seemed so gloomy compared to the past. Then Mr. Wooster leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Isn't this a corker, old chap? We could never do things together before, but here we can eat together, play cards and darts together and...”

Mr. Wooster was interrupted by Roy's, “No whispering and planning strategies against the rest of us! Not fair! One of you is bad enough!”

This produced laughter from the other men. As the game continued, I realised that with just a few sentences my beloved friend had lifted my spirits.

The food at the farm was excellent as always. We had duck for Christmas dinner. There was even a light Christmas pudding. I was still sorrowful over my friend's demise, but Mr. Wooster had given me a new perspective on the circumstances and I was happy to be at the farm with him.

Due to working during a holiday, we were given the week after Christmas free. We went to Brinkley Court since Mrs. Travers had requested Mr. Wooster's company. When I went to Mr. Wooster's room, the first day we were there, I inspected the place, making sure that it was unoccupied. My employer arrived in the room soon afterwards to dress for dinner. He was excited and happy.

He said, “Jeeves, did you know that Eustace is here? It got too heated for him in Africa. I'm jolly glad he's home! The aged relative says he just showed up at her doorstep two weeks before Christmas. Eustace says he wanted to surprise everyone, but I think he's hoping that the nephew crusher won't find out he's in Ol' Blighty just yet. He's already enlisted in the Regulars, so he may not be with us long.”

He chattered happily and I kept my own news to myself. It was not until I was undressing him that night in preparation for bed that I said, “Did Mrs. Travers mention the task she wishes me to do for her?”

“No, Jeeves, old chap. What does the ancestor want now?”

“She wishes me to investigate and find out if Mr. Glossop is forsaking his vow of faithfulness to Mrs. Glossop.”

He jerked away from me and asked, “What?”

Before I could answer, he said firmly, “You tell... no, I'll give her a firm noelle prosqeui. We can always go home. I won't have it. It isn't done; quite against the code.”

He stilled and I began to work once more on preparing him for bed. He was very quiet and I observed as his facial expression became very serious. I comprehended that while he did believe that I should not involve myself in this matter, he was worried that Mr. Glossop was being unfaithful and wished that he knew the facts.

Placing a kiss on his cheek, I said, “I told Mrs. Travers that while I would not actively enquire into the matter, I would listen to what the servants and local gossip are saying.”

I perceived the dislike for my answer on his face and stated, “I am not altering my typical pattern of behaviour. I have always tended to listen to gossip. You would not wish to have knowledge of some of the things that I know about people.”

“I would not wish... well, I say!”

Once dressed Mr. Wooster did not move. I watched the conflicting emotions glide across his features. I understood his inner conflict. He wanted to know if I had learned anything about Mr. Glossop, but he felt that requesting the information was a violation of his code. He was also very aware that he could insist that we go home and I would abide by his decision.

I said, “If I learn anything concerning Mr. Glossop, I will let you know, sir.”

“You think it's best we stay here?”

“Yes, sir.” I did not add that I wanted him to have time with Mr. Eustace Wooster. It had been years since they had last seen each other. As his cousin was in the Army now, it could be some time before my employer saw him again.

“Well, you know best.”

“Try not to fret over it, sir.”

He studied me. “Leave it in your hands, what?”

“Yes, sir,” and leaning forward, I kissed him, effectively banishing his anxiety.

***************************************

When 1941 was born, I was in Mr. Wooster's room, reading. He was downstairs celebrating with family and friends. There had been many years when I would join the other servants to watch the new year arrive. This year I wished to be alone. Conversation among the staff ranged from worried thoughts about friends and relations to debates over whether this year would see the end of the war. I doubted anyone truly believed that the mire we were stuck in would release us this year. Soon after midnight Mr. Wooster joined me for a brief time. He was quieter than in previous years but still cheerful.

The day of our departure I brought Mr. Wooster his breakfast and began to pack his suitcase. He had just finished his meal when I cleared my throat.

“Jeeves, my man?”

“As I told Mrs. Travers, I did not search for information concerning Mr. Glossop. I can, however, report what the local rumours are.”

Mr. Wooster flinched. He said, “How rummy is it?”

“He does spend a great deal of time with Miss Edwards, who manages a government restaurant. He eats there frequently and they have become good friends. However, no one has implied that the relationship is illicit. Mr. Glossop is serving in the Home Guard, as you know, sir, and he spends most of his nights patrolling a golf course.”

“Still I don't like it. He's not a happy blighter right now. He's still pipped because the Regulars won't have him.”

“If I might offer a suggestion, sir?”

“Of course, old chap.”

“I would suggest that Mrs. Travers encourage his displeasure over being denied entry into the military. She should begin to hint that as England does not want his service, it would be perfectly honourable for him to join Mrs. Glossop in Canada. I suspect that he will be eager for the excuse. According to Seppings, he finds the lack of food and the rationing to be disheartening.”

Mr. Wooster met my eyes and the love he held for me was clearly shown within those blue orbs. He glanced back down at his empty plate and said, “I've noticed the lack of food, but it's worse here than at the cottage.”

“I could bring you some sausage and apple tarts, if you'd like.”

“Please, Jeeves. I'm not accustomed to such small servings, but maybe we should start eating less at home.”

Later as he ate the tarts and I packed his suitcase for our trip home, I said, “Do you truly wish to return to London?”

“No, old chap. What I want is to be more useful to Ol' Blighty than I am now. I think I could be, if we went back to the metrop.”

I considered his words and said, “We have Guard duties the day after we get home. During our three days free afterwards, we will review our options. I, too, would like to be of more use to England.”

Throughout the journey home, I sat silently in the crowded train and tried to think of every ramification there might be if we returned to London. I attempted to determine what 1941 might bring to England. As the train approached Cumbria, my heart settled on one thing alone. All I wanted from 1941 was for Mr. Wooster to be alive at its end. I could survive anything else but I could not live without him. He was not just my heart; he was part of my very soul.