Wimseyficlet: On your knees

[nineveh_uk]

Go to Hell. Go directly to hell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200. This is ALL azdak's fault. Albeit with a little bit of real life that has my brain working overtime at the moment and clearly seeking some sort of light relief the better to bend its powers to the incomprehensible again.

So here you have it. Bunter/Saint-George, following on directly from azdak's fic The Rich Man in his Castle, and many thanks to her for allowing me to post a sequel.



Slowly, deliberately, Bunter untied his apron and hung it neatly on a peg by the door. That meant, as Jerry couldn't help noticing, that he was now standing between him and the only possible exit. His heart began to thump.

"You do, don't you?" said Bunter. His voice was soft, but his accent sounded rougher somehow, as if a layer of velvet had been stripped away. "Then get down on your knees."

He had expected anger and an outraged reply, not for him actually to do it. But his expectations of the Viscount had quite obviously been entirely wrong on all fronts and there he was, kneeling before Bunter on the scullery flags and complaining about the effect on his trousers. As Bunter did not believe that the Viscount had seen to a pair of trousers in his life and Bunter was undoubtedly the one who would end up brushing and pressing them whatever the outcome, he did not allow this to move him. The question was, with Saint-George’s hand now well and truly played, what was Bunter going to do about it? An inner voice suggested: score.

Well, there was that. There were risks, of course, but if the Viscount knew anything about Bunter, and apparently he did, a thought to be pushed aside for later, he must know already that blackmail would be a very bad idea. Besides, the rest of the Talboys household wouldn’t be up for hours. Or he could tell the boy to get up and get out in the sure and certain knowledge that he’d never be bothered with him again. Somehow this was less appealing than it ought to have been. It might have had something to do with the grey eyes looking up at him half-veiled by long lashes, and the slight shudder of the shoulders beneath a jacket almost as beautifully tailored as his uncle’s. Like his employer, Bunter was in many ways a simple man at heart. There was nothing to lose by showing a bit of interest.

He unbuttoned his trouser fly while he thought about it. This had the concomitant effect of rather reducing the amount of thinking of which he appeared to be capable and also, he realised, any prospect of making a convincing denial. He became aware that the Viscount had fallen uncharacteristically silent and was now staring at the hand in front of his face. Ah. The hand took the pointed chin and tilted it upwards gently.

‘You haven’t done this before?’ It was barely a question. His voice sounded harsh in his ears.

An infinitesimal shake of the head in response.

He stroked the fair hair back from Saint-George’s forehead, winding his fingers tight against the back of his head, his other hand shoving his pants aside. No denial left.

‘Good.’

Comments

[azdak.livejournal.com]

This is so full of wonderfulness I hardly know where to start. I love the way this raher convoluted sentence/thought process leads to such an unexpected conclusions: As Bunter did not believe that the Viscount had seen to a pair of trousers in his life and Bunter was undoubtedly the one who would end up brushing and pressing them whatever the outcome, he did not allow this to move him. And also what was Bunter going to do about it? An inner voice suggested: score.. And the hilarious This had the concomitant effect of rather reducing the amount of thinking of which he appeared to be capable and also, he realised, any prospect of making a convincing denial. (yes, Bunter, this is indeed going to make a denial exceedingly difficult to utter convincingly, especially if it is the Duchess of Denver who has just walked in unexpectedly and therefore requires denying to).

Lucky old St George, eh? (I bet he's lying about not having done it before ;-))

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

It did get a bit convoluted, but I decided that it was a situation requiring convoluted thought. Hopefully he has got the blackmail goods to address anyone who might walk in, even if in the case of Helen they would involve the indiscretions of other people rather than herself (unless she's got some dodgy finance dealings going on, or lied to a little person who was actually a policeman). I suppose he could try, "Good afternoon, your grace. May I be of service? I am just assisting his lordship with a little nit-combing."

I think it entirely possible that given his personality (doesn't Harriet comment on how happy he is to just take things?) SG has only ever been the other party in this particular transaction...

[azdak.livejournal.com]

It did get a bit convoluted

But it was GOOD convoluted. It wouldn't have worked as well if it had cut straight to Bunter being unmoved.

I am just assisting his lordship with a little nit-combing
*snigger. Helen would be more appalled by the nits than the in flagrante-ness.

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

Helen would be more appalled by the nits than the in flagrante-ness

Definitely. An assurance to her grace that the proceedings offered an immediate cure and all would be well.

[madamedarque.livejournal.com]

Ah, you're clearly on a Wimseyfic roll. This is so, so great. I absolutely love the mental image of Bunter brushing the Viscount's trousers after this. Bunter always carefully weighs the options, but who could fail to be swayed by Saint-George's loveliness?

It might have had something to do with the grey eyes looking up at him half-veiled by long lashes, and the slight shudder of the shoulders beneath a jacket almost as beautifully tailored as his uncle’s. Like his employer, Bunter was in many ways a simple man at heart. There was nothing to lose by showing a bit of interest.

Perfect. By the way, like azdak I am also skeptical that Gherkins has not done this before, but perhaps he's only been on the receiving end.

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

I do seem to be on a Wimseyfic roll. I think it is the result of (a) getting my head down to it, which unsurprisingly results in greater output, and (b) my brain looking for something to occupy it so it doesn't chase round after other things to no purpose! Though tonight it would be nice to make progress on the major project.

I think "only on the receiving end" at least for this fic - which was probably what he was hoping for when he raised the subject in the first place ;-) But I'm afraid that he is terribly good looking, and even strong me weaken.

[antisoppist.livejournal.com]

Oh! Yes. Speaking as someone who has never been entirely convinced by Bunter slash, this is worryingly right and Bunter's thought processes are brilliant. Has the man ever done anything spontaneously without weighing up all the consequences?

I do hope Mrs Ruddle hasn't popped round to steal coal again.

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

You don't have to be entirely convinced by Bunter slash, you just have to find it mildly amusing ;-) I'm sure Bunter occasionally does something spontaneously, but it is probably along the lines of having a second slice of bread and butter.

I do hope Mrs Ruddle hasn't popped round to steal coal again.

If she has, she will get what she deserves! But I bet Bunter made a padlock a priority.