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mercyrobot) wrote2009-06-09 11:25 pm
It's a post. A posty post.
0. Mostly, I wanted to show off this icon I made. *points*
1. Writer's block like whoa. I get like one sentence out and get distracted by something shiny. My brain's doing something that goes a little bit like Trek! Jooster! Joostertrek! No, wait! Fireflytrek! TorchJooster! Ianto is Jeeves and they're on the Enterprise and run into Serenity! And what about that thing where Jeeves had a secret wife? Ducky? Ducky who? ARGFARGLEVALETSPACE. Yeah. That's what my head sounds like on the indoors.
2. KINGDOM. Was great. Is great. Is being great. Oh Lyle. *looks at watch* Hey, next week! Get here with new ep plz. When does Peter get a boyfriend? Wishful thinking, I know.
3. Well, it would be a pretty lame list if it only had two things on it.....
Um. Make me write porn. Prompts. Issue them now. Maybe with word count limits.
ETA 6/10: I am exhausted and falling asleep. Ficlettings to continue on the morrow.
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I was happily banging away at a rather rousing rendition of 'Ain't She Sweet?' when a pair of strong and capable hands came to rest on my shoulders. I turned my head and smiled up at Jeeves, changing the next bit to, "Oh, ain't he nice? Well, look over him--"
"Bertram."
"--once or twiiii--" My singing abilities rather failed me, as did the old digits' ivory-tickling mechanism, because firstly, hearing my name on Jeevesian lips was still a fairly novel thing, and secondly, he was nibbling at my earlobe. "Y-yes, Jeeves?"
"I would very much appreciate," he said between nibbles, "an alternate selection."
"Oh." I struck something that was very much not a chord as the nibbling moved to my neck. "You wouldn't rather, erm, move this to the bedroom?" I asked with a hopeful shiver.
One of the s. and c. hands found its way in between my shirt buttons. "I would rather you play something else, sir," was breathed against this very lucky ear of mine.
"Right ho," I strangled out, laying shaky paws upon the keys once again. I wracked the brain for the simplest thing he'd find acceptable and came up with-- well, the name escapes me, but it's either Beethoven or Bach, to do with some girl. My childhood piano teacher would have rapped my knuckles with a ruler for the way I was playing, spotty tempo and missing notes left and right, but I was most certainly not thinking of her at the moment, or Beethoven or Bach or Elise or whatever her name was.
Quite frankly, the only reason I could think of the music at all was that whenever I forgot it and paused, Jeeves began to remove his hands and lips from my person, and that was not to be borne. It was lucky that I'd had this particular tune drilled into my head from a very early age, because with my eyes closed and head thrown back, it would have been dashed difficult to look at a score or the keys.
Jeeves slid me forwards a bit and scooted in behind me, all pressed up against my back. I think I played the same phrase a few times (worse each) when a hand made a very welcome intrusion into my trousers. I rushed through to the end of the piece in time with Jeeves's steady stroking and when I arrived at it with one final mess of notes and never mind the sustain, my hands had nothing more in their power than to clutch at his knees as I fought for breath and climbed towards--
Just when I would've cried out his name in ecstasy, Jeeves stopped. I cried it out in frustration instead, but I don't think it was terribly recognisable.
"Did you not express a wish to continue this in the bedroom?" he asked against the back of my neck with rather more application of tongue than strictly necessary for speaking. I could feel him smirking, the marvellous blighter.
"The hell with the bedroom," I groaned with a decidedly shameless thrust into his motionless hand.
"Very good, my love. Stand up."
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I wrenched his hand from my hip and placed it firmly on my achingly aroused arousal, which had the unfortunate and unintended result of causing Jeeves to remove his tongue. "Is there something you would like, sir?" he asked with a healthy dose of cheek, if you'll pardon the pun, and it's him saying things like this at moments like this that can make getting brought a drink dashed uncomfortable in company.
"Get on with it, man," I said forcefully.
With a fraction of a shadow of a chuckle, he got on with it, thank heavens. We started off a bit rough and graspy with a colourful phrase thrown in here and there, but by the end I'd gone absolutely to soppy sentimental pieces because Jeeves was plastered over my back and whispering and moaning, and as sweet release was at last mine, I craned my head back as best I could to watch the last bit of that ironclad control of his crumble away. It's not a sight to be missed, though everyone but yours truly will have to miss it.
"What's that bit about music?" I mumbled into a now rather clammy bit of piano top as Jeeves slowly disentangled us.
"If music be the food of love--"
"Ah, that's the one," I said. "Play on."
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guh.
um.
heh.
fic good.
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Glad you like, thankies! :D
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YUS!
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Awesome! *tries to breath*
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Oh.
My.
hawt.
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My brain. It is gone.
And I don't mind it one bit :)
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(Anonymous) 2010-07-23 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)