triedunture | Jooster Fic: Jeeves and the Thorny Problem (Part 4)

It was nearly a week after the Mayfair incident that Mr Wooster finally directed me to lay out his blue stripe suit, which I have always thought complimented him best. I inquired after his plans, and he told me he was determined to hoist himself out of the dumps, to use his own words.

'I've decided that love is utter rot,' Mr Wooster said as he did up his silk tie in the mirror. 'I can't mope round the flat forever, Jeeves. The Wooster must fly again.'

'Most gratifying to hear, sir.'

'Yes, quite. I am a grown man of no piddling means, and I'm bound to be able to scoop up the ready and willing if I so choose.'

I aided him in shrugging on his waistcoat. 'Doubtlessly true, sir,' I said carefully, for this was a very different young master than the one who, only a day previous, had been wondering aloud how he would ever live without Thornton Wrexton at his side.

Mr Wooster's flashing eyes caught mine in the full-length mirror. 'I don't mind telling you, Jeeves, I plan on painting the town a dashed bright flame-colour tonight. I might find one strapping lad to share my bed, or I might find another. One cannot know what the night will bring.'

My brow furrowed at this. I looked about for some clue as to this sudden change of attitude in Mr Wooster while he busied himself with his cuff-links.

'I will say this, however: whomever I choose to make my evening playmate, I will be certain to lay out all the facts. No leading a vulnerable heart astray,' he chattered as he arranged his cuffs to his liking. 'I will say, "Harold," that is, if his name happens to be Harold, "Harold, I wish to inform you that while I find the idea of going to bed with you appealing, I do not intend to love you as love is utter rot." I daresay plenty of gentlemen will find the honesty refreshing.'

I picked up the copy of the morning paper that Mr Wooster had been perusing while still abed. It was folded to the society page, and the topmost item revealed to me all I needed to know. It appeared Mr Wrexton was announcing his betrothal to a Miss Geraldine Tomlin-Quim, a lady from an excellent family and possessing a comfortable fortune.

Truth be told, I found myself greatly relieved. Since the Mayfair incident, I had feared that Wrexton would recognise my part in the proceedings (as Mr Wooster had) and seek revenge against me. Now, however, it seemed that he had no recourse but to marry, as certainly every invert in London had heard about his misdeeds from the other slighted gentlemen. Perhaps those gentlemen had even threatened him themselves, for he had arrogantly pursued other men of considerable means. His standing among those men was forever tarnished, and nothing he could do to me or anyone else would change that. Wrexton's power to hold helpless men in his thrall was gone.

I placed the newspaper back on the footstool and turned to my master, who was agitated by his hair's inability to sit straight on one side, instead curling into a shape that displeased him.

'Sir,' I sighed, 'if you only wish to find a casual bedmate because of Mr Wrexton's new connection—'

'He despises that Tomlin-Quim girl,' he snapped suddenly. 'He told me all about her. I hope she bears him a dozen children; he hates those too, by the way.'

I allowed the corner of my mouth to curl into a small concerned frown. 'Then his future unhappiness is assured, sir. Is it really necessary to cast yourself into a fervour like this in reaction?'

Mr Wooster abandoned the task of combing his hair and placed his horsehair brushes on the dressing table. He leaned there heavily, as if his legs might not support him. He did not turn to face me as he spoke: 'It sounds mad, I know, but a part of me believed that perhaps, in time—' He paused. Brought a hand up to cover his eyes. 'I half-dreamed that he would return to me, the Thorny that I knew, who loved me and was so good to me,' he said in a strangled voice. 'But now...'

'Sir, if I may, I do not believe the man you knew was ever the real Thornton Wrexton,' I said softly.

Mr Wooster nodded. 'Yes, I did say you'd think it mad. But I feel compelled to do this, go get myself a warm body to lie next to, I mean. Is it revenge? Loneliness? I don't know.' Mr Wooster's hand trembled on the dark wood of the dressing table. 'I only know I can't go on like this. I want to feel something other than this horrible black despair inside my stomach. Even if it's a gross pantomime of real love. Is that so wrong?' he whispered.

'No, sir,' I answered in gentle tones. 'I only fear that, in your state of heightened emotion, men as opportunistic as Mr Wrexton might prey on you should you indiscriminately seek the company of a man.'

Mr Wooster sagged like a broken doll. 'What can I do, then? Call a rent-boy? I don't even know how one would go about—'

'No!' I said firmly, with perhaps more volume than I intended. The thought of a hired boy, filthy from life on the street, touching Mr Wooster's body, put dark thoughts in my mind. I swallowed and spoke more sedately. 'No, sir, I could not advise such a thing. Street walkers are a desperate breed, and the danger of blackmail for one such as yourself is too great.'

'Well, then I'll just have to take my chances in the night clubs,' Mr Wooster said, straightening once more and turning to me. His beautiful face, which I loved above all others, was lined with the strain of withholding emotion, and his eyes were red with unshed tears. I ached to gather him in my arms and provide a barrier between the cruel world and his heart. I found myself swearing, not for the first time, that I would gladly sacrifice myself for a wisp of his happiness.

And I realised that this was the opportunity for me to prove it.

'Will I suffice?' I asked before even the most obvious ramifications could be thought through.

Mr Wooster gaped at me. 'What?'

I unfolded my hands from behind my back and stood nearer to what I hoped was a relaxed pose. My gaze fastened on a point just above his shoulder, and I clarified my offer. 'If you are in need of physical release and any man will do, I—' I coughed lightly into my fist. How to phrase it? I would be honoured, I would cherish the chance, I would treat him as the precious treasure I knew him to be.

'I would fulfill that role, sir,' I finished quite lamely.

Mr Wooster cast his eyes skywards with something approaching his old humour. 'Jeeves, if you're trying to get a laugh out of me, you might consider enacting a Pat and Mike sketch instead, what?'

I stood still, unspeaking, though I felt my face colour hotly with shame. Of course the idea was preposterous to Mr Wooster. What was I but a substitute uncle for him, a servant with no claims to anything of his, let alone his bed. I bowed my head and waited for further barbs.

'Oh good Lord,' he finally murmured. 'You're serious, Jeeves?'

'Your distaste is understandable, sir—' I began.

'Wait.' Mr Wooster held up a finger. We were silent for a beat, then he said, 'I'm getting a brandy. You'll have one as well, and don't try to refuse.'

He left the bedroom and returned with two large glasses. I obediently drank the one he offered me and watched him do the same. The warm burn of the alcohol helped to calm my nerves somewhat, but I still waited anxiously for Mr Wooster to speak.

He did so while turning his now-empty snifter in his hand, examining the glass from all angles. 'It would be rather convenient for me, I suppose.'

The words underscored how loveless this exchange would be, and the thought sent a stab of pain through my chest. But this was all for Mr Wooster, and I had to set aside my feelings so I might provide him a service he required. I steeled my jaw and braced myself to accept this damnable duty.

Mr Wooster gave one final nod and took my snifter from my nerveless fingers. 'Let's give it a try, what?'

As he turned to place the glasses on the side table, I took a shuddering breath to collect my thoughts. Though this act would not involve any tender emotions on Mr Wooster's part, I was determined to make the experience as pleasing to him as I could. In my mind, this meant the exact opposite of his experiences with Mr Wrexton. I recalled that Mr Wrexton had never, to my knowledge, fully undressed in Mr Wooster's presence; I now saw that such a thing might have seemed a vulnerability to that villain.

Well, if he had refused to appear vulnerable to Mr Wooster, I would have to be as vulnerable as I felt in my shaking limbs.

I began undressing myself with my usual deft efficiency.

Mr Wooster turned back round to find me divested of my tie and waistcoat, and working on shrugging out of my starched white shirt. His blue eyes widened at the sight of my naked chest, and I hesitated, suddenly unsure.

'Would it please you to keep me clothed, sir?' I asked.

His eyes darted back up to my face. 'No, no, that is, whatever you'd—' He cleared his throat. 'Carry on, Jeeves.'

'Thank you, sir.' I removed the shirt and folded it on a nearby chair. Mr Wooster sat on the edge of his bed, watching me as a zoo visitor might watch an exotic monkey. Under this scrutiny, I removed my shoes, socks, and sock-garters, my trousers and dangling braces, and finally my underthings. When I stood entirely nude before Mr Wooster, I held my head high and said nothing, waiting for his direction.

He pulled at his ear, a gesture of indecision, and said, 'Erm, what exactly should we—?'

'Anything you desire, sir. Only name it,' I said.

He shifted on the bed, his always-busy hands now empty and skittering. 'I feel dashed silly ordering you round like this. I didn't— I mean to say, I was never the one in charge, before.' He carefully avoided both Wrexton's name and my eyes.

I considered his words. If Mr Wooster had lacked control in his previous liaisons, surely there was an act that afforded him all the control and pleasure he could want with none of the pressure of reciprocation. I approached the bed and lowered myself to my knees.

Mr Wooster watched me, his eyes going impossibly wide as my intention dawned on him. I reached out with tentative hands and rested my palms (so large, so work-roughened, so unlike his own) on his finespun covered thighs.

'Would this be objectionable to you, sir?' I asked.

'No,' he said in the barest whisper.

I reached for his trouser flies, my gaze fastened on that task and not his blank face. 'You must put your hands in my hair, sir, and guide me according to your preference. If I falter in this, please do not hesitate to correct me.'

'All right,' he said, and settled his hands lightly on my head.

'Do not be afraid to pull, sir.'

Mr Wooster didn't seem to respond to this remark. I had finally opened his flies and revealed his member, half-hard and pulsing in my hand. I endeavoured to bring him to full hardness with gentle teasing breaths and grazing touches over the delicate skin. Mr Wooster's fingers tightened in my hair minutely, and I took this as my cue to give a small lick to the head, where a bead of liquid begged to be swept away.

An encouraging moan emanated from Mr Wooster's throat, and I dared to glance up at his face, pinched in rapt pleasure, his pink mouth open and panting, his eyes shut tight.

I took him in my mouth, and his hands clutched at my hair like a drowning man would a life preserver. I fought the wave of lust that washed over me: the musky scent of him, the feel of his thighs under my hand, the sound of his cries of pleasure, they all threatened to break my resolve.

But no, I reminded myself. This was for Mr Wooster's pleasure, not my own. As wonderful as it would have been to shut my eyes and pretend that this was an act of love, that Mr Wooster would take me in his arms afterward and press kisses to my face, that I could stretch my naked body beside his and sleep in peace and contentment, I knew these were fantasies. I was nothing more to him than a warm mouth and an empty throat.

A thread of moisture worked its way down my face. At first I thought it was sweat from my exertions, but soon another followed, warm and salt-laced on my lips, and I realised in horror that I was weeping. The tears continued to fall, pushed to the brink of my eyelids by the churning thoughts in my mind (you're furniture to him, you're nothing, you never will be, and you don't deserve it anyway). To my absolute mortification, my tears began dripping on Mr Wooster's legs, where they soon soaked through his trousers.

'Jeeves?' Mr Wooster said, his voice both breathless and concerned.

I was ashamed to feel my throat closing, and the difficulty in finding breath forced me to release Mr Wooster's member from my lips. I choked and coughed, all the while failing to stop the tears that now ran freely down my face.

'Jeeves, whatever is the matter?' Mr Wooster's hands gentled in my hair, and they cradled my head in a soothing fashion, which only served to make me cry more.

'I am sorry, sir,' I said while wiping a forearm across my wet face. 'I will be better directly.'

'Good God, it's not old memories, is it? Does this remind you too much of the one you lost?' he asked, his fingers still combing through my hair.

'No, sir.' My voice refused to stay steady, and I croaked pathetically. 'I—'

'It's all right, old thing, it's all right,' he whispered to me, his hands still petting. 'We needn't continue.'

Fresh tears sprang to my eyes at that. Even after all he'd been subjected to, Mr Wooster was still the kind and gentle man I loved. And here I was, blubbering like a child and about to lose the only opportunity I'd have in my life to touch him as I dreamed.

I swallowed a sob and rose up on my knees, pressing a kiss to Mr Wooster's mouth. This kiss said 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry' and 'always.' It said all the things I would never be able to put into words for Mr Wooster, and most of all, it said goodbye. For I knew I could not continue as I had. I had not the strength for it.

I broke the kiss slowly, my own traitorous mouth wishing to stay connected as long as it could to Mr Wooster's sweet lips. I wiped the dampness from my shut eyes and attempted to regain my composure.

'You're in love with me.' Mr Wooster's voice shook like a leaf in the wind.

I nodded, still unable to open my eyes, fearful of what I'd see in Mr Wooster's face.

'Is that why you offered to ease my need, Jeeves?' he asked, strangely devoid of emotion.

'I wish I could fulfill this office for you without so much as an eyeblink,' I said in a halting voice. 'I thought I could put aside all I felt. You are more important—' I was overcome once more, tears welling up in my burning eyes. I took a breath and soldiered on: 'It appears I am incapable of separating my love for you from my duty to you. Please forgive me, sir.'

My body trembled with the strain of remaining upright on my knees, and Mr Wooster wordlessly pulled me up to sit beside him on the bed.

'Look at us,' he murmured. 'What a pair. Love has caused us nothing but trouble.'

I dried my eyes with the edge of my hand, suddenly aware of my ridiculous nudity and wishing I could sink through the floor and be gone.

'You watched me make love with Thorny, even though you loved me yourself?' he suddenly demanded in a high voice, as if he had just now recalled the incident and its consequences.

'He threatened to hurt you if I did not comply,' I said simply, miserably.

'Jeeves, you— Why didn't you tell me? I would have—' He paused. 'I wouldn't have credited it, would I? Good Lord, I was such an idiot.'

We sat on the bed for a space of time, and I endeavoured to bring my hiccuping breathing under control.

'Let's pretend for a moment,' Mr Wooster finally said with deliberate slowness, 'that love is not utter rot. You maintain that you love me, Jeeves?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And what does that mean?'

I was stymied, for the love I felt had been so long a part of me that I knew not what it meant. It meant everything. It was how I poured his morning tea and how I indulged in our playful games of arguing over his clothing. It was in the water I poured into his bath and in the lines I ironed into his trousers. It was the one thing I held in my breast that did not need to be clever or cunning or complex; it only was.

'Sir, it means I am yours to do with as you will,' I said.

'And in return?'

'I can ask for nothing in return.' I dared to brush my fingertips over his alabaster cheek, and then closed my hand into a fist on the coverlet. 'I have already taken too much from you: your trust, your secrets, your gentle touch. Please, tell me what you would have me do. Only do not ask me to use my body to pleasure you; would that I could, but the sting of unrequited love threatens to undo me.'

A lone tear, the last of a seemingly endless string, travelled down my cheek, and Mr Wooster reached out and dashed it away with his thumb.

'Love is such utter rot,' he sighed, and my heart twisted once more. 'You did nothing wrong, Jeeves. Everything you've done has been for my benefit; I see that now. And yet here you are, holding the short end of the stick.'

His hand lingered on my jaw, and I fought a whimper at that wonderful caress.

Mr Wooster leaned in and whispered like a child sharing a secret: 'If love weren't utter rot, as we're pretending, how would it happen, Jeeves?'

'Sir?' I whispered in return.

'If you were requited, how would you make love to me?'

I bowed my head. 'Forgive me, sir, but it seems cruel to ask me to contemplate—'

'Surely you've thought about it?'

I met his curious gaze. 'A thousand times.'

Mr Wooster gestured for me to continue. I expelled a breath through my nose. 'Slowly, sir, with all the care one might afford to a priceless work of art. Even in my dreams, I can scarcely believe I am allowed to touch you as I wish, and so I do so with reverence. Tenderness...' I trailed off with a shake of my head, unable to finish.

'That sounds dashed pleasant,' Mr Wooster said breathlessly.

'It is,' I agreed, 'until I wake and remember that it is not real.' I rose to collect my clothing. 'Perhaps I should bid you a good night, sir.'

'Jeeves.' He grasped my wrist in his hand, his grip deceptively strong. 'You know I'm very fond of you?'

'Yes, sir. It warms me to know it.'

'And you know I'd be loath to live without you?'

'Yes, sir. You are kind to acknowledge my skill as your valet.'

He worried his perfect lip between his teeth. 'And you know that, well, if love weren't such utter rot, yours would be the first name on the list of suitable helpmeets?'

So close, yet so far; my heart clenched. 'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

I freed my wrist from his hand and turned to leave.

'Jeeves!' My master stood suddenly.

I turned back to him. 'Sir?'

His mouth opened and closed, his hands wringing before him. 'I'm beginning to think, Jeeves,' he said, 'that perhaps love isn't rot after all.'

I fought the spark of hope in my chest, squashing it back into nothingness. 'I am not looking for pity, sir.'

'And I have none to give you!' he cried. 'Dash it, Jeeves, come here, would you?'

I stepped closer, my clothing still in my hands, my naked body bared before his intense gaze. He sunk his fingers into the hair at the back of my head and drew me down for a kiss. It was only a press of lips at first, but Mr Wooster deepened it into sensual exploration, and I tasted something extraordinary in him.

'How could I have ever been fooled by such a cheap imitation?' he murmured against my neck when the kiss was broken. 'This is real, Jeeves. You're real.'

'Sir.' The clothing fell from my hands and I lifted shaking palms to rest on his perfect hips. 'Sir, do you—?'

He nuzzled against me, his nose brushing my ear. 'Love you like the dickens,' he said.

I pulled back to regard his face, which was open and sincere. 'Truly?' I asked.

'Truly.' He grinned. 'You're not going to cry again, are you?'

I laughed, and he kissed me once more. His hands, questing and soft, skated over my bare back and flanks, causing gooseflesh to rise there.

'You would have walked away from me,' Mr Wooster said in wonder. 'The thing that I felt these past few days, that awful, wrenching pain, you were resigned to carry it round with you forever. How, Jeeves? How could you do such a thing?'

'I love you,' I said against the soft wave of his hair beneath my lips. 'You are all that matters. I would have given my life—'

'Well, that is going to have to bally well change!' Mr Wooster squeezed his arms tightly round my middle, nearing robbing me of air. 'Jeeves, I don't ever want you to do such a thing for me! Sacrificing yourself for the young master is all very well in theory, but I'm putting my foot down on the practice right now. If I'm here,' he raised one hand flat into the air, 'I want you to be here as well,' and he raised his other to the same height.

'Equals, sir?'

'Exactly.'

My heart overflowed. I had never dared hope for such a thing, not in a million dreams. I kissed him in a way that spoke to my absolute agreement. I even managed to dip him low in my arms.

'Mmmphf!' He clutched at my shoulders, and then panted for breath when I released him. 'Jeeves,' he said in charmingly shaky tones, 'you have no clothes on, and I do. I seek equality in this matter as well, you know.'

I led him back to the bed, where I removed the clothes from his body with the same care I used to dress him. Each button and clasp was a joyous discovery, revealing more of his pale skin to me. I parted the panes of his shirt with especial slowness, and he quirked an eyebrow at me.

'Not to be overly critical Jeeves, but I don't suppose you could rush things along?'

'No, sir,' I murmured, 'I cannot.'

'Ah.'

I let my hands roam him, a perfect landscape: the valleys of his hipbones, the riverbed of his ribs (too prominent from missed meals), the hills of his knees, the constellations of a dozen perfect bones in his ankles. These I kissed as I removed his shoes and socks, and he squirmed under the attention.

'I say, that tickles.'

I looked up from my work, up the bare stretch of his body, once again roused to excitement. I held his gaze. 'If anything I do displeases you, I implore you to say so, sir.'

'Oh, I didn't mean for you to stop,' he said. 'It only felt strange.' He gave me a knowing smile. 'Though I suppose that's your plan, to show me new things. Better things, what?'

'That is my plan, sir.' I bent my head to kiss his elegant calf, which flexed becomingly in my hands.

'Erm, Jeeves. Does this plan eventually lead to anything that two people might participate in?' His bright eyes sparkled down at me. 'I'd like to be an active player in the proceedings.'

'I would advocate patience, sir.' I licked a stripe along the side of his thigh.

Mr Wooster sprang into action with a speed that surprised me, and he bowled me over onto my back, his hands on my wrists.

'I've been patient. Now I want you,' he murmured, brushing his lips against mine.

I revelled in the feel of our bare bodies in such close contact, the million points of light where his skin touched mine.

'I have always harboured, well, unseemly thoughts about you, Jeeves,' he whispered against my collarbone. 'I put such notions aside because I didn't understand my nature, and then— But, oh, you feel so marvellous.'

We arched against each other, the contours of our bodies fitting seamlessly together. 'You are so beautiful,' I told him quietly.

He laughed beneath my chin. 'Have you seen my nose? My gangly legs? My—'

'All beautiful. Every part.' I trailed my hand down his flank. His skin was heated to burning.

He rose up above me, his arms locked to support him. The dim evening light filtered through the bedroom curtains and played along the planes of his face in a striking way. 'Will you take me?' he asked.

'Do you wish me to?'

'Do you wish to?' he returned with a teasing smile.

'Of course I do.' My hands could not stop travelling up and down the smooth length of his body. He captured one of them in his own and drew it to his lips, sucking on my fingers wetly.

I could have peaked right there.

But Mr Wooster released my hand and then guided it between his legs...

'Sir!' I jerked my hand free from his grip. 'That will not—'

'What? What's wrong?' Mr Wooster asked, panic colouring his voice. 'What have I done?'

'Nothing, you have done nothing wrong.' I kissed him tenderly to assure him of such. 'I only fear this will not be enough to prepare you for lovemaking.'

He blinked, his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed. 'But that was always— Well, it was all that—'

A brief surge of anger flowed through my veins; I could have killed Wrexton for treating my love's body with the same callous indifference as his heart. But I calmed. He was gone now, and I could make things right.

'I will return directly, sir. I promise.' I kissed him once more before slipping off the bed and hurrying from the room.

I have never ransacked my quarters before, but I did so now. I knew I had somewhere among my possessions a small blue jar that contained a cool, slick jelly that was perfect for the task at hand. I always made certain to keep a supply, the Vaseline brand being useful for everything from squeaky door hinges to chapped hands to—

'Aha!' I cried as I finally found the small pot in my sock drawer.

I sprinted back to the master bedroom to find Mr Wooster sprawled on his back, looking elegantly disheveled and impatient. He mimed taking a pocket watch from his non-existent waistcoat and glanced down at it in annoyance.

'My apologies, sir,' I said, joining him again on the bed. 'I believe this will make the experience a more pleasurable one for you.'

He took the jar from me and examined it. 'Good Lord, the idea never crossed my mind,' he said with a shrug. 'Well, carry on, Jeeves.'

I opened the jar and scooped up a large glob of the substance with my fingers. Mr Wooster watched me eagerly, wriggling himself into an even more accessible position, but he was disappointed when, instead of reaching out to him immediately, I brought my hand before my mouth.

I breathed slowly over the jelly; in answer to his questioning eyebrow, I explained, 'It will be very cold for you if I do not first warm it a little.'

His face was a wonderful mixture of being touched by the gesture and yet frustrated. 'Must you be so kind to me, Jeeves?'

'Yes, sir, I must.'

When the slick substance was warmed to my satisfaction, I finally applied myself to the task to preparing Mr Wooster. I did so with very great care, so much so that he protested what he perceived as teasing.

'You're right, this stuff makes everything much easier,' he sighed, pressing down on my finger. 'Under these circumstances, one might imagine you could go a little faster, Jeeves.'

'One might imagine, sir.' I added another digit to the one already within him, but kept my movements minute and slow.

'Come on, come on,' he babbled as he writhed against my hand. 'I'm ready; it's fine; come on.'

'I beg you to give me just a few moments more,' I soothed, letting my free hand pet along his quivering side.

His head fell on the pillow with a groan, but he allowed me to work his body open in my gentle way. When he could easily accept three of my fingers, I was obliged to cease my preparations.

Mr Wooster, who caught on to some things like a prized pupil, was already reaching for the little jar of Vaseline and my turgid member. 'Shall I warm it for you, as well?' he asked.

He did so, despite my protests that I would not feel the cold as keenly, and slicked my hardness with a touch that was as delicious as it was loving. When I was fully covered in that substance, Mr Wooster lay back and opened his arms.

'Like this?' he asked.

'Yes.' I settled atop him, and his arms went round my shoulders. 'I must watch your face.'

He hummed in agreement and kissed me, reaching down between us as he did so. It was he that guided me to his entrance; when the blunt tip of me came flush against his body, we both shuddered.

'You're...quite large,' he noted.

'I'm sorry, sir,' I said, for I did not wish to cause him discomfort.

Mr Wooster laughed. 'Oh, Jeeves. What are you apologising for? It's going to feel magnificent in only a little while.' His hand urged me onward, and I breeched him. Just a bit. Then another small bit. Then another, and yet more, until I was fully seated within his body.

'Move,' Mr Wooster demanded.

My hips twitched more in reaction from his husky voice than any order on my part. The both of us moaned, our muscles jumping in our arms and legs, much like horses that wish to gallop.

'I am not made of glass,' he said against my neck, his breath warm and moist there. 'You don't have to treat me as such, Jeeves.'

'Sir, although I do wish to be careful with you,' I ground out between clenched teeth, 'my reluctance to move actually stems from the fear that I might be the one to break if I do so.'

'Maybe I'd like to see you break, Jeeves.' And the wonderful imp took my earlobe between his teeth and nibbled on it.

I shivered against him uncontrollably. 'I did warn you, sir,' I said.

'Consider me warned. Now move.'

I complied.

Making love to Mr Wooster had long been a dream of mine, but I found that nothing had prepared me for the experience. His beauty, already the pinnacle of fair English gorgeousness in my mind, was heightened by his flushed cheeks, his panting mouth, his strong arms round my neck, and his small, breathy noises. His eyes, however, were the most beautiful: normally bright blue and laughing, they were now wide, shocked, as if the things I was making him feel were a wholly new and fantastic experience. He stared up at me with those eyes, and I found I could not look away.

It seemed so strange that the simple act of moving a small portion of my body in and out of his own would produce such a myriad of sensations. But my arms trembled, my stomach felt fluttery, the blood pounded in my temples, and my lungs were bereft of air. The greatest of all, however, was the love I felt flowing between us, into us, filling us both. And looking into his eyes, I could see he was experiencing much the same.

One of his hands cupped my face. 'I didn't know,' he whispered in time with our movements. 'Didn't know it could be like this.'

I could not reply for fear of further weeping, this time of joy. I turned my head and kissed his hand instead.

'It should always be like this,' he said.

'It shall,' I answered with fierce conviction.

'Oh, Jeeves.' He brought one leg up to wrap round my waist, and he buried his face in my neck. 'Love you. So much.'

'Your face,' I said in quiet request. 'Please—'

I placed my hands on either side of his head, and he pulled back to look at me once more. His own hands came up to bracket my own face, so that neither of us could look away.

'I love you,' he repeated, his eyes saying the words as loudly as his voice.

'My beloved,' I called him, and kissed him with all my mounting passion.

As our mouths moved together, one of my hands stole down to his hardened cock, trapped between our stomachs. I stroked only a moment, and then he gasped into my mouth and shuddered in my arms, reaching the precipice with a glad cry. I followed him over that cliff edge. And I clung to him as if he was the only thing left in the world.

I drifted back to the surface of the earth, aware only in stages of the cooling sweat that dotted my skin, the warm wetness of Mr Wooster's release on my torso, and my inability to breathe properly. Then, happily, I perceived that Mr Wooster was still curled up in my arms, undergoing much the same ordeal.

'I say, Jeeves,' he panted.

'Indeed, sir.' I kissed the corner of his lips and reluctantly moved to release him from my grasp.

But Mr Wooster tightened his own arms round my frame. 'Where do you think you're going?' he asked.

'I need to procure a dampened cloth, sir. You will be uncomfortable tonight if I do not wash you. Such...prolific exertions have—'

He thumped a slack fist against my chest. 'Stay where you are, Jeeves. Don't dream of moving a muscle.'

'But sir, the fluids—'

'Can be dispensed with in the morning.' He yawned against my shoulder. 'Sleep now, Jeeves.'

I confess it was not difficult to let the exhaustion, both mentally and bodily, overwhelm me. I slept like the dead with Mr Wooster beside me.

I woke the next morning to find him propped up on one elbow, watching me closely. He smiled down at me and said, 'Hullo there, Jeeves.'

It took but a moment for my mind to recall all the wondrous events of the previous night. 'Good morning, sir,' I said.

'Sleep well?'

'Extraordinarily, sir.'

'I'll say. It's nearly ten o'clock.'

I sat up so swiftly and with such a horrified expression on my face that Mr Wooster laughed quite loudly. 'Oh, don't be so shocked, Jeeves. It's not as if you had anywhere to be.'

'But your breakfast, sir, and tea, and—'

He kissed me then, mollifying me completely. 'I required you here,' he said when he pulled away. 'And now, I believe I require a bath. Do you think, Jeeves, that it is possible for my bathtub to hold two men of roughly our size and shape?'

'If the two specimens are not averse to close quarters, sir, I believe such an arrangement is possible.'

'Brilliant.' He batted me lightly in the face with a down pillow. 'Now stop laying about. You've a bath to run.'

The life of a valet is one of varied hours, with additional tasks supplementing the daily chores of a home's upkeep in no small measure. One must be prepared to conform to a new schedule should one's gentleman require it.

'Jeeves!' he chortled as I sprang on him with attacks of playful nips to his neck.

I have been exceedingly fortunate in finding a post as Mr Wooster's valet. Exceedingly fortunate beyond all measure.

fin.

Oh my goodness! I don't think I'm exaggerating when I call this tale epic. It is incredibly long and dense and there is a LOT going on in it, and I'm sorry for anyone who spent a good chunk of their life on it, and I hope it at least brought you some enjoyment.

Since I already wrote 20,000+ words, I don't think it would be too odd to have a very lengthy end note here. First, thanks to hwshipper who betas like a champ and always points out what needs work, and thanks to the flist who supported me in working on this crazy idea, and thanks to T who said "oh my fuck, you're not going to shoot the butler again, are you?" (He thinks I have a thing for hurting poor Jeeves, and maybe I do! I am sorry, Jeeves.)

Thanks to all my friends' awful significant others who made a great basis for the awful Thornton Wrexton. Man, my friends date some douchebags!

Thanks thanks thanks for reading. It's been a year since I entered this fandom, and I've loved every moment of it. Please accept this as a sort of anniversary gift. Love and kisses to all.

EDIT: You can download the podfic here as an mp3.

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dodificus.livejournal.com

(you're furniture to him, you're nothing, you never will be, and you don't deserve it anyway).

I approve:) You broke Jeeves beautifully but then you put him all back together again better than before.

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