He had forgotten about his sleeping-routine. The odd gestures, the foot-tapping or humming, were one thing, but there was one very particular gesture of self-soothing he always engaged in just before sleep. Always on his own, that is.
Jonathan Strange in Mr Norrell's body had not done what Mr Norrell always did, and reached for a gown. He was lying flat on his back, stark naked, and his rosy-pink phallus was tapping and jerking impatiently at his belly.
For a scandalised half-moment Mr Norrell noticed that it was larger than he would have thought.
"Mr Strange, I forgot that you might see that. My body is a creature of habits. I regret to say I always take care of myself last thing."
"Mr Norrell," said Mr Strange, "never apologise for being human." He reached down and casually stroked his borrowed member.
It looked so exactly like his own, for obvious reasons, that he seemed to feel a flush of heat from the root to the tip of Mr Strange's own organ.
Then Mr Strange reached out for the mirror he'd apparently stashed on the bedside table earlier.
"I have an idea," he said.
Mr Norrell said, "If you'd remember, all this started with you having an idea."
He thought Jonathan Strange (in his body) was trying to rise above that remark. "In the Peninsula, sir, I saw a surgeon working with someone with his limb taken off. He used a mirror, sir. The man was screaming with pain which was in the limb he didn't have, but when the surgeon put the mirror so it reflected the leg he did have twice, if you see what I mean, it fooled his mind into thinking that leg was still there, and he was able to relax. If we use a magic mirror (no, not a travelling one, sir) we can watch each other and try to think ourselves across the space between."
Mr Norrell was having great difficulty concentrating. He managed to grasp that somehow he was going to be allowed to do something. He whined, and, in his Mr Strange body, lay down beside "himself".
"All right, Gilbert," said the man inside/not-inside him. "Show me how you feel."
Gilbert Norrell panted and spread his legs, still dimly amazed at the size of his/not his own prick.
"Yes, it's a nice big thick one, isn't it?" said Jonathan Strange. "Give you a bit of incentive to get home and play with it."
Soon all he could see as he looked at himself was Jonathan, and his heart beat Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan, and he could see Jonathan's thighs nestling close around Jonathan's prick as he stared down his own body. Yet it wasn't quite right, because what he actually wanted was to enjoy having that brute of a thing in his own small hands...
Meanwhile, Jonathan was crooning, Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert! and Gilbert Norrell knew exactly what he was doing because he was watching his own hand on his own prick in the mirror. Suddenly he felt frankly selfishly in need of just feeling those lovely tight strokes along his own prick, and they weren't quite right, so the whole of him slammed bodily/not-bodily to one side, in through the brain-pan and the beating heart and the stiff prick to his familiar self, feeling the warm wind of Jonathan slamming equally past in the opposite direction into Jonathan's own cocky intelligence and breathing lungs and hard prick.
He could hear Jonathan Strange noisily pleasuring himself, but then Mr Norrell got his stroking hand just right on his own prick at last, and he was coming so hard he nearly fainted.
After some considerable time, Jonathan Strange said, "Damn. I perfected the most ambitious working I've done in a while, and all you actually cared about was tossing yourself off."
"And it felt so good," sighed Mr Norrell. He noticed something, and a smile came to his face. "You did it! We're home!"
"I regret to say that I cannot honestly claim to have defeated Ormskirk," said Jonathan Strange.
Mr Norrell looked out quickly, relieved to see his perceptions hadn't let him down and they were indeed home.
"Yes, we are back. But I cannot claim to have defeated Ormskirk when I have only the vaguest idea what I did, how it worked, or indeed what the other spell meant in claiming that Ormskirk had been working."
Fill: A Spell for Changing Places, thus Discoueryng the Right Place 5/9
He had forgotten about his sleeping-routine. The odd gestures, the foot-tapping or humming, were one thing, but there was one very particular gesture of self-soothing he always engaged in just before sleep. Always on his own, that is.
Jonathan Strange in Mr Norrell's body had not done what Mr Norrell always did, and reached for a gown. He was lying flat on his back, stark naked, and his rosy-pink phallus was tapping and jerking impatiently at his belly.
For a scandalised half-moment Mr Norrell noticed that it was larger than he would have thought.
"Mr Strange, I forgot that you might see that. My body is a creature of habits. I regret to say I always take care of myself last thing."
"Mr Norrell," said Mr Strange, "never apologise for being human." He reached down and casually stroked his borrowed member.
It looked so exactly like his own, for obvious reasons, that he seemed to feel a flush of heat from the root to the tip of Mr Strange's own organ.
Then Mr Strange reached out for the mirror he'd apparently stashed on the bedside table earlier.
"I have an idea," he said.
Mr Norrell said, "If you'd remember, all this started with you having an idea."
He thought Jonathan Strange (in his body) was trying to rise above that remark. "In the Peninsula, sir, I saw a surgeon working with someone with his limb taken off. He used a mirror, sir. The man was screaming with pain which was in the limb he didn't have, but when the surgeon put the mirror so it reflected the leg he did have twice, if you see what I mean, it fooled his mind into thinking that leg was still there, and he was able to relax. If we use a magic mirror (no, not a travelling one, sir) we can watch each other and try to think ourselves across the space between."
Mr Norrell was having great difficulty concentrating. He managed to grasp that somehow he was going to be allowed to do something. He whined, and, in his Mr Strange body, lay down beside "himself".
"All right, Gilbert," said the man inside/not-inside him. "Show me how you feel."
Gilbert Norrell panted and spread his legs, still dimly amazed at the size of his/not his own prick.
"Yes, it's a nice big thick one, isn't it?" said Jonathan Strange. "Give you a bit of incentive to get home and play with it."
Soon all he could see as he looked at himself was Jonathan, and his heart beat Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan, and he could see Jonathan's thighs nestling close around Jonathan's prick as he stared down his own body. Yet it wasn't quite right, because what he actually wanted was to enjoy having that brute of a thing in his own small hands...
Meanwhile, Jonathan was crooning, Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert! and Gilbert Norrell knew exactly what he was doing because he was watching his own hand on his own prick in the mirror. Suddenly he felt frankly selfishly in need of just feeling those lovely tight strokes along his own prick, and they weren't quite right, so the whole of him slammed bodily/not-bodily to one side, in through the brain-pan and the beating heart and the stiff prick to his familiar self, feeling the warm wind of Jonathan slamming equally past in the opposite direction into Jonathan's own cocky intelligence and breathing lungs and hard prick.
He could hear Jonathan Strange noisily pleasuring himself, but then Mr Norrell got his stroking hand just right on his own prick at last, and he was coming so hard he nearly fainted.
After some considerable time, Jonathan Strange said, "Damn. I perfected the most ambitious working I've done in a while, and all you actually cared about was tossing yourself off."
"And it felt so good," sighed Mr Norrell. He noticed something, and a smile came to his face. "You did it! We're home!"
"I regret to say that I cannot honestly claim to have defeated Ormskirk," said Jonathan Strange.
Mr Norrell looked out quickly, relieved to see his perceptions hadn't let him down and they were indeed home.
"Yes, we are back. But I cannot claim to have defeated Ormskirk when I have only the vaguest idea what I did, how it worked, or indeed what the other spell meant in claiming that Ormskirk had been working."