Sky (skyblue_reverie) wrote,
Sky
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Jeeves and the Billiard Lesson

Hello my gorgeous f-list darlings! I come with a little J/W PWP, in honor of veronamay's birthday. I hope you all enjoy this harmless bit of fluff.


Title: Jeeves and the Billiard Lesson
Author: Sky Blue Reverie skyblue_reverie
Fandom: Jeeves and Wooster
Pairing: J/W
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Approximately 2300
Summary: Another short PWP loosely set in my J/W-verse, written for veronamay's birthday. Pool table smut!
Author's Notes: Thanks ever so much to the wonderful rivers_bend and my beloved beta-goddess Essie for fast and helpful beta work! Dedicated to the lovely, talented, and infinitely gracious veronamay, who celebrates her birthday today. My dear, you stand alone! Many happy returns of the day to you, old thing.
Disclaimer: The characters and settings aren't mine, more's the pity.
Feedback: I live for feedback.




I never thought I'd have cause to be grateful to those twin excrescences Claude and Eustace. They're my cousins, yes, so of course one is obligated to clasp them to the bosom and feed them and give them tea and lodging and whatnot, but one sleeps decidedly more soundly when the blighters have shoved off at last. I'm not one for staying out until the wee small hours any longer, carousing with the lads or vying for the attentions of the fairer sex; I've settled down in my old age, and of course now that I've formed a permanent union with Jeeves - my man, you know - such things no longer interest me. Round about 2 ack emma, the bloom comes off the rose and Bertram is ready for a bit of the old shut-eye. Claude and Eustace, on the other hand, are just shifting into top gear at that hour. They've raised all-night revelry to an art form, and are rather dedicated to refining their technique. I'd been putting them up for a week straight and I was bally well exhausted.

My cousins had, some months previously, been shipped off by my Aunt Agatha to South America - or was it South Africa? One of those beastly hot and far-flung locales, anyway - but the cheeky devils had managed to scrape up the oof to leg it back to the mother country. So now they were hanging round my flat, not having worked up the gumption to let Aunt A. know they had foiled her plans. Of course, that didn't stop them from getting into even more hot water, and this was brought home to me when I returned from lunch at the Drones to find the flat vacant of any Wooster twins, and instead occupied by a regulation-sized billiard table in the middle of the front room.

"Jeeves," I called, and he materialised from somewhere-or-other. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, sir," he said calmly. "It is a billiard table."

"Dash it, Jeeves, I know it's a billiard table. But why is it a billiard table, Jeeves? Er, what I mean is, what is a billiard table doing here in our front room?"

"I believe, sir, that it was delivered at the behest of Mr Claude and Mr Eustace."

"I should have known those two blisters were behind it. But why, Jeeves, why?"

"I understand that it is part of some practical jest that they are perpetrating upon the members of a rival club."

"Well, that's all very well, Jeeves, but I can't even walk around my own flat now! The blasted thing takes up the entire room. I can't imagine why you let them bung it in here."

"You did, sir, impress upon me that we were to accept every inconvenience to ourselves in order to accommodate the young gentlemen, sir." He said this with a distinctly frosty air, and I saw all. Jeeves was rather pipped that I had taken in Claude and Eustace, since it meant that we had to suspend our, er, more intimate activities, and he had been forced to go back to catching his nightly forty winks in his own lair. As a result, he was feeling rather shirty. I was none too pleased myself, to confess the truth, but family is family and sacrifices must be made.

"Family is family, Jeeves; sacrifices must be made," I said. "You did the right thing in accepting delivery. As a matter of fact, I believe we should look on the bright side of the thing. Every whatsit has a silver thingummy, you know, Jeeves."

"Indeed, sir. And what might the proverbial silver lining be in this instance, sir?" Jeeves inquired.

"Well, now we can knock around a few balls in the privacy of our own home, of course," I said. "Don't you like billiards, Jeeves?"

"I couldn't say, sir; I have never played."

"Never played?! Well, Jeeves, you are about to begin. Where are the balls and cues?"

"I believe they are by the piano, sir."

I biffed over and fetched the b.'s and c.'s.; then I racked up the balls. I examined the cue sticks, running my hands admiringly up and down the smooth wood. I saw that Jeeves was watching my actions with a particularly glittering, focused gaze. Apparently he was gung-ho to learn this game, and I was happy to note his enthusiasm. I handed him one of the cues and claimed another for myself.

"Now, Jeeves, you start with the break," I said, and demonstrated, leaning over the table and sending the cue ball sailing off with a satisfying smack to scatter the rest of the balls. I was pleased to observe that Jeeves was watching my actions carefully, still with that intent gaze. "Of course, the objective is to sink the balls."

"Sink the balls, sir?" Jeeves asked.

"Well, yes, Jeeves. You want to get the chaps in the holes."

"Indeed, sir," Jeeves said with a faint smirk, though I couldn't see what there was to smirk about. It all seemed perfectly straightforward to me.

I ignored his expression and urged him forward. "You give it a try, Jeeves. Just use your cue to knock a ball into any pocket."

He bent forward over the table and held his cue at an awkward angle. I hastened forward.

"No, no, Jeeves, that won't do at all," I said. I bent over him, adjusting his grip on the cue. "You want it to slide easily, smoothly - don't hold it so tightly." After a moment, I stepped back, and watched him take his shot, which went wide of its intended mark. "Good show, old fellow - not bad at all for your first attempt."

I stepped forward and took my own shot, explaining which ball I was planning to sink into which pocket. We went a few turns like this, Jeeves asking me about the rules of the game, and quirking his lips minutely when I explained. His eyes still glinted and he watched me keenly when I demonstrated a particular technique, and I was heartened that he was getting into the spirit of the thing so fervently.

Finally, I had to take a rather tricky shot. I was leaning forward over the table, preparing to let loose the old cue, when suddenly I was grabbed from behind with great ferocity. In my startlement, my cue slipped, ripping the fabric of the table's surface. "Great Scott!" I exclaimed. "Jeeves! What on earth possessed you to do that?"

"I am sorry, sir," he said, and I would have pursued the matter further, only by that time, Jeeves had got my trousers unfastened and was busily shoving them down the old Wooster stilts. I may not be the brainiest cove in London, but even I could puzzle out what Jeeves was about at this point, and while I was momentarily surprised, I was not averse to his plans. Rather the opposite, in fact.

"Quite all right, Jeeves, carry on," I said. I let my cue stick drop to the table's surface and arranged myself in a more comfortable manner over the table. Not that the billiard table was as cosy as, say, our bed, but matters were proceeding apace and I didn't like to interrupt Jeeves to suggest a change of venue. Within a matter of moments, Jeeves had dropped his own trousers and had coated himself with a drop or two of that dashed handy slippery substance he always carries around with him, and was pushing into me with great vigour.

"Aaaaaaaahhhh - yes, Jeeves," I managed, and he unloosed a heartfelt groan. What with the enforced separation, both of us were rather eager and I could tell this wasn't going to last any great length of time. He reached around to give me a bit of a helping hand in concert with his other efforts. The Wooster digits scrabbled at the green baize while Jeeves worked his magic, and within a shortish interval Jeeves gave a final groan and released himself into me, and I let out a matching moan as I joined him in reaching the peak, doing so rather messily against the side of the table.

Jeeves draped himself over me for a bit, resting against my back, both of us leaning against the table, panting as if we had just run a footrace at a clip to beat out Hermes, if he's the chap I'm thinking of - the fellow with the little wings attached to his footwear. It's a good job a billiard table is a heavy, sturdy thing, given the rigors it was enduring. After allowing us a few moments to catch our breath, Jeeves pulled back, causing me to give a bit of a shudder. He grabbed me once more and spun me about, lifting me up to perch on the edge of the table while he moved forward and kissed the stuffing out of me. I happily wrapped the Wooster limbs around him while we shared a few tender moments. Eventually, though, he stepped back and, giving himself a bit of a wipe down with his handkerchief, reassembled his vestments. I was a bit messy at this point - coated in sweat and oil along with other, er, fluids - and Jeeves ran an appraising eye over me and my crumpled garments.

"Might I run you a bath, sir?" he asked.

"Jolly good idea," I said happily.

I lay back on the somewhat-worse-for-the-wear billiard table, dangling my legs and humming a sprightly tune, while Jeeves turned the taps and whatnot. Once the bath was ready, he whisked me into it and gave me a hand with the scrubbing - dashed handy to have such a capable and dedicated valet - and then he left me to splash about with my rubber ducky while he tidied up a bit.

By the time Jeeves got me out of the tub, rubbed down, and shoved into a fresh set of togs, I could hear the twins knocking about in the front room. I sallied forth with a spring in the step and a twinkle in the eye.

"Ah, Claude, Eustace," I said genially. "How are you two young gargoyles this fine afternoon?"

"Hallo, Bertie," said Eustace. "I hope you don't mind that we had this rather fine billiard table delivered here for safekeeping. Your man said it would be all right."

"Quite all right, quite all right," I said with equanimity.

"Here now, what have you done with the table?" asked Claude accusingly. At this, a bit of the Wooster blood rushed to the old dial, but upon a glance at the table, I noted that the thing had been shined and polished and no sign of Jeeves's and my recent activities remained.

"What on earth do you mean?" I asked innocently.

"There's a great rip in the baize which certainly wasn't there when we pinched the thing," he said.

"Oh, that," I said. "Well, er, you see…" I trailed off.

Jeeves chose that moment to manifest himself in the room, appearing in our midst like one of those swami fellows. "I'm afraid, Mr Claude, that Mr Wooster was lining up a shot when the telephone rang. He was naturally startled by the sudden noise, and his cue slipped, causing the tear."

I threw Jeeves a grateful glance and he quirked his mouth at me, while Claude and Eustace stared moodily at the marred surface of the table.

"Oh, well, nothing for it, I suppose," Claude said grudgingly. Then he brightened. "Look here, Bertie, we've been asked to join some chums for a jaunt to the continent, so we'll be shoving off."

"But, er, Bertie, old man," Eustace chimed in, "As it turns out, we haven't got the scratch to get this table shifted out of here. We had no idea it was so bally expensive to hire movers - we barely managed to pay the fellows who bunged it in here in the first place. So, er, you won't mind if it stays here for a bit, will you? We're off to the tables at Monte Carlo, and we're bound to make enough of the folding stuff to get it carted away."

Jeeves and I shared a glance, and I divined that our thoughts were running along the same lines. We both had fond memories of that table, and neither of us would be opposed to making a few more of those f. m.'s.

"No trouble at all, old things," I said expansively. "Jeeves, why don't you help these two fine fellows pack their things? I wouldn't want to hold them up while Monte Carlo beckons."

"Very good, sir," Jeeves said immediately, floating off to do so.

"Jolly decent of you," Eustace said.

"Not at all, my dear fellow, not at all. Always glad to help family."

Within an hour, Jeeves had got the blasted twins packed up and decanted into a taxi, speeding off for the bright lights of Monte Carlo. As soon as he got back and closed the door behind him, Jeeves steered me toward the bedroom. I threw a hopeful glance at the billiard table, but Jeeves murmured "Later, sir," and I cheerfully assented. Jeeves always knows best, after all.

END


Want more? Christmas fluff this way!




Tags: fic: jeeves & wooster
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