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Two Minutes After

Title: Two Minutes After
Author: Derien
Fandom: P.G. Wodehouse
Pairing: Mike Jackson / Ronald Psmith
Disclaimer: Mike and Psmith belong wholly to Wodehouse; their actions in this story belong wholly to me.
Notes: Sequels The Book III. Set just after the end of "Mike and Psmith." They are about seventeen, I guess. For Tootsiemuppet. (In fact, written on paper and sent to her. She kindly typed this up, refusing to accept that I would not post it.:))
Rating: R

* * *

Psmith could somehow keep talking no matter what else his tongue was doing; a comforting buzz in Mike's ear that served to distract him from the strangeness of the situation and concentrate on the pleasant aspects of what else that tongue was doing. They had locked their study door so that Psmith could give him some special instruction in understanding Greek because surely it would help in understanding the language if he understood more about the people who spoke it. Classical Greek, Mike decided, was an inspiring tongue; at least the way Psmith spoke it on his body.

Now Psmith was easing off his trousers and pants and adding them on the pile of clothing nearby, running his long, clever fingers across Mike's belly, trailing them up the inside of his thigh, and finally, finally, grasping his cock, which was lying stiff against Mike's lower belly. Mike heard his breath no; that was not Psmith's harsh breath letting out, it was Mike's own. He hadn't been aware of holding it. He sucked another breath in, his throat close, his mouth dry, watching, mesmerized, as Psmith's fingers wrapped tightly around and allowed only half of the purpley engorged head to peak out. His tongue flicked out, swirling across the head, velvety and warm. Some sort of noise came out of Mike's throat a squeak or a whimper and Psmith looked up into his eyes, mischievous.

"What a delicious plum."

A smile tugged at the corners of Mike's mouth it did indeed resemble a plum, but he didn't want distraction at the moment.

"Now that I know that your mouth is good for something else, see if I let you talk anymore," he said, just touching the back of Psmith's head, encouragingly, which Psmith accepted whole-heartedly.

* * *

Endnote: I'd always wondered why Wodehouse's nickname was Plum. Eor suggested it might have been given to him by his boyfriend.

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