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“Oh, Jeeves. Jeeves.” Bertie moaned enthusiastically into the aforementioned Jeeves’ mouth.
He was met with equally enthusiastic sighs and groans, spilling forth into the hot air between them. Tearing desperately at each other’s clothing, wrenching at ties and scrabbling at buttons, Jeeves walked Bertie backwards until his back collided with the wall. His head ricocheted hard off the surface. Bertie hardly even noticed.
He drew up one leg to nudge at Jeeves’ lower back, pulling him ever closer. Jeeves took the hint and hoisted him up, supporting him with a large hand under each thigh. Bertie squeaked in surprise, but it was swallowed by Jeeves’ hungry mouth, which continued to nip and bite in no short order. Bertie’s shaking fingers stroked the brilliantine from Jeeves’ hair, causing strands to come tumbling down onto his forehead. Jackets were shrugged out of. Collars were furiously loosened, and lips applied to exposed skin.
Bertie had the reached the point of pawing hungrily at Jeeves’ trouser front when the door banged open.
“Bertie, I am—” Aunt Dahlia’s voice cut across the room.
She gasped.
Bertie and Jeeves froze. Completely. Their lips remained sealed together, but their eyes shot open. They shared a look of utter horror. Although nearly entirely hidden from view by Jeeves’ broad frame, Bertie’s slender legs were still hooked around his waist. His trouser legs had ridden up slightly to reveal his eclectic silk purple socks.
“Bertie.” Aunt Dahlia repeated, strangled.
The sound of her voice startled them into motion. Bertie unhooked his legs from around him, followed quickly by Jeeves’ hands sliding from Bertie’s thighs, lowering him to the floor with a jolt. The feverish atmosphere of mere moments ago had been thoroughly quashed and replaced with a tension one could cut with a knife.
Bertie stepped gingerly out from behind Jeeves, putting a respectable distance between them. It was in vain. No amount of space between them could take back the simple fact that his Aunt Dahlia had just walked in on them in flagrante delicto.
“Aged a.” Bertie croaked, hair in disarray and clothes in a state of complete and utter dishabille. His tie had been discarded earlier in the proceedings, and he could now spy it hanging limply over a nearby lampshade.
The sight of his aunt standing so formidably before him nearly caused Bertie to faint dead away. He swayed a little, hopelessly grasping at the notion he was still dreaming.
“I expect you to clean yourself up, and meet me in the living room.” Aunt Dahlia said pointedly.
“Right-ho.” Bertie breathed, heart pounding.
He blinked at her face, and was surprised to see a distinct lack of anger there. She didn’t seem awfully bothered by it, now that he was really looking at her. Not after the initial shock, at least. She even had something of a smirk playing about her mouth.
He smoothed his open collar self-consciously, wondering if it were possible to die of embarrassment.
Aunt Dahlia turned her attentions to Jeeves, who was still facing the wall and discreetly attempting to do up his fly, “Jeeves.”
He immediately spun around at the mention of his name, his face a mask – or at least, it would’ve been if it wasn’t still flushed with exertion, cheeks still painted pink. His waistcoat was hanging open; his tie intact but pulled unforgivably out of shape.
He cleared his throat, “Yes, madam?”
“I expect you to be serving us all tea.” She raised an auntly eyebrow, “I think we are all in need of a good cup of Darjeeling.”
Jeeves seemed, for the first time in his life, to be on the back foot.
“Yes, madam.”
She nodded regally, before pointing a stern finger at Bertie, “Don’t be long, young blot. It appears we have much,” here, she looked back and forth between Bertie and Jeeves with a mischievous grin, “to discuss.”
And she swept out of the room, leaving them to gape at each other in shock.
First to recover, Jeeves crossed the room and fetched Bertie’s red tie from the lampshade. He was halfway through retying it around Bertie’s neck, when Bertie looked dazedly up at him.
“Jeeves, was Aunt Dahlia really in here just now?”
“Indeed. She is currently waiting for us in the living room.”
Bertie groaned, tipping his head to rest it on the nearest broad shoulder. Which, of course, happened to be Jeeves’.
“Oh, I could just die, Jeeves. I have half a mind to go back to sleep, and wake back up in reality. This simply cannot be happening. It cannot.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
“You are entirely awake, Bertram. Please do not leave me to face your aunt alone.” Jeeves replied, voice quivering slightly.
“Have no fear, Jeeves. I don’t think I am in a position to do anything else right about now except obey orders. I suppose we must face the music.” He reached up and brushed inky-black hair off the Jeevesian forehead. Jeeves smiled a little, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“Bertie!” Aunt Dahlia boomed suddenly, causing them both to start badly. It quite ruined the moment.
Leaning back, Bertie patted down his own dishevelled golden curls.
“Well, then. Once more unto the breach, old thing.” Bertie told Jeeves sagely, although with a slightly frenzied look. Then he kissed Jeeves’ lips briefly, before walking past him into the living room with the general air of a man going into battle.
Jeeves closed his eyes for a moment as if in prayer, before following suit.