(no subject)
Bertie languorously trailed his hand along his manservant’s torso, caressing him from navel to hipbone, when he heard a strange sound.
“I say, Reggie, are you all right?” he whispered.
“I would not recommend exploring that region,” he replied, flinching slightly.
“Blast it, why not?” Bertie retorted, running his fingers along that path again. He heard the sound repeated, louder this time. It sounded almost like a giggle, only, that had to be impossible, considering who it came from. “Hang on, you don’t mean to tell me you’re ticklish?” He grinned, continuing to stroke him.
“Sir, if you persist in such activities, I shall be forced to retire to my own bed,“ Jeeves said sternly, trying not to squirm.
“Oh all right, old thing. No need to give me that look. We Woosters may be persistent, but we know when to sound the old retreat.”