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Remy LeBeau ([info]ace_of_clubs) wrote in [info]vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-09-18 09:19:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:!complete, day 23, location: church, remy lebeau, the doctor (ten)

Who: Remy LeBeau & The Doctor (Tenth)
What: Gambit keeps his promise.
Where: At the Church
When: Day 23, 10:02pm
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete

'Church, ten o'clock' the Doctor had said. Thankfully, the mutant was able to read his digital wrist watch with no problem. It had a little feature where you could push the button and it lit up. How cool was that? So after watching the Time Lord walk off into the darkness, he had turned back around to watch the fire burning down the barn. Really, it was fantastic to behold, and though he idly wondered if the smoke would fill up the bubble and kill them all.. he wasn't really that concerned. This enclosure was huge, after all.. and there had to be some sort of exchange going on, right? Else they would have run out of oxygen long ago.

While standing there watching the barn burn, Selene had come along.. the Cajun had been more than happy to indulge her for a while, before finally he'd collected up the buckets of water, his washing board, and various other items, and had taken them across town towards the church. He'd only been there a handful of times, but he had enjoyed it, it was peaceful. So it was at ten o'clock that the Cajun, hauling along three buckets full of water, five water bottles, three empty buckets, a washing board, and a little red wagon (all rusted and ugly, but still working) down the road to the Church. He would, of course, end up having to turn into the woods, but he just took it slow from there, until he was passing by the cemetery, slowing his steps to rake red eyes out across the graves. There were at least two bodies in there, Selene had said she'd buried them there.. idly, he wondered who they were. But he wouldn't dwell on it. The strictly Catholic-Raised Cajun (except for Tante Mattie, who was into voodoo) mentally repeated a prayer, though he'd lost his faith long ago. It was habit.

And just moments later, he was coming to a stop in front of that church and leaving the red wagon behind as he went up the stairs, pushing open those double doors and stepping on through. He hadn't ever been inside the church.. but as he stepped through the doors, he felt a little shiver. That was what faith did to you, kids. It made you feel like God was watching you all the time. And right now, he felt a little paranoid about it -- Sinners didn't want God watching them all the time.


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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 05:02 pm UTC (link)
"Uh huh," he said, producing one of those pouch meals before he pushed it back beneath the improvised work bench. Reaching back under again he'd hold an unopened one for the Cajun to take. Though it was rapidly dropped as the feel of leather at the back of his neck made the Doctor forget the plan he'd had to affix a little chip beneath those wires and was instead, arching forward, taking posession of his skin from the Cajun's touch.

The problem wasn't that that touch could be construed as sexual. It wasn't an issue that he knew precisely what that Cajun could do with those hands, and had done. No, what was issue was that leather, a very distinct feeling against his own skin that still carried with it some rather unpleasant memories.

"Make any ammends?" He asked abruptly, his middle pressed flush with the table's edge as with jittery hands he tried to press that chip into place. Breathe, Time Lord.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 05:07 pm UTC (link)
Remy jerked his hand back some when the Doctor pulled forward, worried he'd hurt him or something without realizing.. but when he looked down at his hands, he noticed that glove and a slow breath was released. The glove. "Non.. Pas encore." Not yet. But he was turning his eyes onto the meal laying on the floor, bending there at the waist to pick it up and turn it over in gloved hands. Then he carefully set it aside on the bench. He'd eat it a bit later. Right now, he was unbuttoning both gloves, carefully peeling them off, then he made a particular show of assuring that he dropped both of them into the Time Lord's range of vision, though he never brought naked hands into the picture, only falling gloves, which would hit wood, and settle there.

Only then did his hand come back, this time warm and pliable against the Time Lord's neck, settled against his skin quite purposefully. "Merci beaucoup." For the food, that was. He really would eat it, Time Lord. Eventually.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 05:14 pm UTC (link)
The French was barely discerned because the Doctor was trying to adjust the chip and get it planted right where it ought to be. He'd hardly heard the snap of buttons and leather as those bits of the other man's attire were set on the bench. He didn't even turn his head to look. No, he was just going to breathe. He was going to bottle up the hints of panic and burrow them down deep.

There was the notceable heat of skin against the back of his neck, and despite the tension in his muscles the Doctor forced a sigh. He forced himself to accept that touch. When had he ever done that before? He never accepted anything. He took when he wanted to and ignored when he didn't. Yet, that contradiction of a man was letting that hand sit there. Clearly, if you were paying attention Cajun, something was more than a bit off.

"You should eat."

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 05:17 pm UTC (link)
He was paying attention. He knew something was off. And he was desperate to figure out what it was, to fix it.. but he also didn't want to break what seemed to be a good thing for them. They weren't yelling at one another, the Doctor wasn't running away, the Cajun wasn't saying anything stupid..

"Je sais. J'irai faire." I know. I will. He replied softly, that other hand coming out as his body shifted, moving to stand behind the Doctor and thread that other hand into dark brown hair, tugging in a playful manner before he started a short head massage, second hand coming up to join as he focused his attention down on the Time Lord beneath him.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 05:28 pm UTC (link)
"That brain under your fingertips is trying to get this modulator finished," the Doctor gave in a mumbled reprimand. He shook his head, he couldn't help it, knocking those fingers off in a less than direct manner. He wasn't fighting, at least not in an obvious way, anyway. You could see he was busy, couldn't you?

"Go on," he said, nodding at the meal. "Though, I don't think any part of it is actually beef..." He wasn't going to acknowledge the fingertips beyond that shake of his head. He wasn't going to push back into the touch, nor give some sort of satisfied sigh. No, the Doctor would have just let your hand settle there, and that really should have been enough for you, thief.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 05:33 pm UTC (link)
It wasn't. It never was. "J'aime ce cerveau." I like this brain. He remarked in return, shifting his stance and removing both hands for only a brief moment as he knelt down behind the Doctor sitting there on the floor, with the Catholic altar being kneeling-height, it was the most comfortable way to use it as a table, of course. His lips found the side of the Doctor's neck, but then he was resting his chin atop a shoulder, arms lazily snaking around his waist, loosely. He didn't want to disturb the other's movements.

"Enseignez-moi quelque chose dans Gallifreyan." Teach me some Gallifreyan, he'd said. He wanted to learn a few words in your language, Time Lord. You could teach and work, couldn't you? Were you ready to? At least it'd keep that over-active mind of yours nice and busy.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 05:48 pm UTC (link)
"I like it best when it works properly," mumbled because he was holding a bit of wire between his teeth. Though, he was feeling the shifting nature of the man and then a pressure on his throat. Leather or not, that was disquieting. Of course the Doctor squirmed and pulled away. There was then that grip around his middle and the Doctor again tensed.

"Don't," he said, setting down the wire and instead pressing those hands away gently. Really he wanted to yank them away. So, that request for a Gallifreyan lesson was lost, sorry. "Not that."

Not what, Doctor? With this insistant man you had to be a little bit more specific. The Doctor shifted a little, holding up a long strand of wire, "Wrap that there," he insisted quietly, before starting on the other end doing the same thing. There were many, many coils of wire now, running the length of the pipe. Apparently, the wire would amplify the sound. Maybe.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 05:54 pm UTC (link)
With those hands pushed away, the red-head was swaying back.. then scooting over to the side and forward, so he could plop himself next to the Doctor, with a careful mind to be far enough away not to touch him. Gloved were reclaimed and tugged on messily, left unbuttoned, before he took that wire from the Doctor and moved his hand forward to do as he'd been told, deft fingers wrapping it easily around. Thief, Doctor. If you had anything small or intricate, he'd be great with it. He could also pick locks, hot wire cars, blow things up.. you know. Things like that.

He could play the piano, too. Did you know? Not something most people might be expecting.

"D'accord." He spoke only once the wire was wrapped, settling gloved hands back into his lap so he could rebutton them, breathing out slowly as he did.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 06:09 pm UTC (link)
For once, Remy, it wasn't that the Doctor didn't want that touch. It was actually quite the contrary. Who didn't want to be stroked when beaten? Who didn't want to be caressed when they'd been whipped? You'd think that holding would go hand in hand with that idea, instead it was holding that actually made everything come back. That was why the soothing feeling of fingertips through his hair and breath against his cheek had been secretly lapped up - and why he'd yanked away from your hands at his middle and the pressure at his throat.

The wires met and soon the Doctor was connecting them to the salt-water battery he'd made. He'd have to add the reagent to the mixture before they'd get much of a charge, but, he needed to know everything fit right now. Satisfied he was leaning backard with a sated smile. The completion of the modulator was almost done.

Something was still wrong.

Something was still missing.

He'd cover up that hole.

He'd make sure you never saw.

In a church no less.

The Doctor was turning, shifting and he was almost looking through the Cajun. Had you seen that look before, Remy? The answer was no. An abrupt no. Even te way the Doctor moved to reach out and run his thumb down the edge of your throat was different, felt different. Could you tell?

"Thank you."

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 06:15 pm UTC (link)
"Je vous en prie." You're welcome, he responded quietly, tilting his head back a little to let that hand have free reign of the sensitive spot along his throat. He had a bit of a shadow of hair on his face, beneath his jaw. He hadn't shaved today, but he would tomorrow, when he was a little more stable, and more willing to old a razor to his neck.

"Voulez-vous quelque chose? N'importe quoi." Do you want something? Anything. It was a statement that meant to say exactly what it had. What could he do for you, Doctor? Anything you wanted. Anything you needed. You just had to say the words, you just had to make the gesture, lean into him, whisper it, yell it-- just let him know, some how, and he'd do whatever you wanted.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 06:25 pm UTC (link)
There were little scratches of stubble agains his touch and the Doctor soaked them up like he owned them and deserved them. He was memorizing the pattern and in the midst of that mundane task he was making up his mind. He was deciding on the best way to hide in plain sight. He could do that without a perception filter, he could give you just what he thought you wanted, Cajun.

The Doctor was abruptly standing, brushing down his slacks, and headed back into the sanctuary. The only thing the Cajun would see at his point behind the Altar was the Doctor's long coat being carefully hung on the edge of the door. Followed by his suit jacket.

How long could you stay put, Cajun?

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 06:29 pm UTC (link)
About five seconds, thanks. He was pushing up to his feet abruptly and trailing after him, unbuttoning his gloves as he went and tugging them off, pushing the leather down into the back pocket of his jeans as he disappeared behind the altar, following after the Time Lord. He would have followed you anywhere, Doctor, didn't you know that? He'd pass by that door, with the coats hanging on it, and follow the older man into the chaplains office. It was nice and secluded, with a big, wooden cross hanging on the wall. You were Catholic, Cajun, God was going to strike you down for this. He was watching you eager to sin in his church.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 06:38 pm UTC (link)
More likely God, if there was one beyond the rage filled Time Lord, was going to come after the brunette who was lacing his fingers into the Cajun's shirt and pushing him back against the wall without a word. More importantly, he was pinning those arms back so the Cajun couldn't wrap them around him.

It was then the Doctor started to bury himself against the ginger man. He started pressing bruises to hard muscle and chapped lips to stubbled flesh. Had he ever pushed you like this before, Remy LeBeau? Had your Doctor ever demanded this from you?

It should have felt odd, because it was. It should have seemed out of character because for the Time Lord there was no reasoning. This was just instinct. A fearful, clawing instinct.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 06:41 pm UTC (link)
No, he hadn't. But honestly, the Cajun wasn't thinking about it. He needed this as badly as the Doctor seemed to. He needed to be touched, and he really didn't care how the touches came. He didn't care that his arms were pinned to his sides, that he was pushed up against that wall. It didn't matter to him, because he felt those lips along his jaw, on his throat, and that was all that mattered. The Doctor was all that mattered. And if he wanted this, he could have it. He could have everything the Cajun had to give.

Within reason. They'd been in this position before, with the Doctor seemingly the one who'd get to take over, in the end. And it hadn't happened. The Cajun had still gotten his, and he had no reason to think that it would be otherwise this time.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 06:50 pm UTC (link)
Heavy gashes to mend. Impossible scrapes to bind. Stitches and bruises and wounds all needed hiding - and the Doctor was working hard at that.

Those hands along the Cajun's frame pressed hard and needy - there wasn'y any sort of sweetness to the pressure. There was no caress or smoothing to be found in his hands or fingertips. No, he was feeling just how hard your musculature was. It would probably hurt, just a little. Don't worry, Cajun he was just reminding you who was running this show.

He would push off the other man's shirt, stretching the hem, the neck, the sleeves. He'd tug at belts and buttons and soon enough he'd be forcing down denim. You didn't dare break the spell by interrupting, would you Remy? Because he was pushing off his own. Mind those hands of yours, Remy.

Mouth less kissing than biting now, sounds more grunts than moans. The Doctor would have his control back, hope you were watching, Management.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 06:54 pm UTC (link)
When his clothes were so roughly removed, Remy shut his eyes down tightly. But only for a few seconds. He opened them again to focus them on the Doctor's harder face. Something was very wrong, he could tell now. But he didn't say anything. Yet. If this was what the Time Lord wanted, the red-head wouldn't deny him. Shirt of, pants down, he didn't even get them completely off, they'd get trapped at his ankles thanks to his boots, but with as embarrassing as that was, he knew no one could see, just his Doctor. And that made it a little easier.

Then the Doctor's pants were coming off, and Remy felt a little better. Bare hands fanned out across the wall behind him, loathe to reach out and touch the other man, lest he break this spell. He wanted this. But he was starting to think maybe he didn't want it like this. He'd wait it out. Maybe it'd get better-- and the biting? Well, he let out a short moan for that. Sorry, Doctor, your mutant actually enjoyed that bit.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-09-18 07:02 pm UTC (link)
Was there anguish on that boy's face? Was there discomfort? Embarassment? Hesitation? It didn't matter because the Doctor didn't see it. Even as he pulled back a bit to look back and forth between the Cajun's eyes with his own fevered gaze, the Doctor wasn't really reading him. Wasn't really comprehending what he was doing or whom he was doing it to. You knew better, Doctor.

He'd lace one hand with the Cajuns, claming it, and then deliberately he'd take the other. He was restraining you, Remy - in a press of palms and a squeeze of flesh. He was taking over. Could you handle that? Would you?

The Doctor's foot settled between the Cajun's, his thigh coming forward to press between and seperate muscled thighs with a not so subtle forcefulness. Lips had turned to claiming the Cajun's - there was nothing remotely sweet left now - it was all brute force.

"Remy," He breathed, leaning the whole of his weight against the Cajun.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-09-18 07:07 pm UTC (link)
His muscles tensed up, not at the gripping of his hands, which wasn't anything particularly new.. but rather, with that thigh pressed between his own. That was a little disconcerting. He didn't like that. But touching flesh was touching flesh, and his body would react accordingly, even though his mind was in a floury. Red eyes closed partially and he gave those holding hands a squeeze. You were freaking him out a little, Doctor.. but he could stand there. He could take it for a bit longer. He didn't think you'd actually try to do anything. You knew better. This was just a little play on dominance. He got it, you wanted to be dominant, that was okay. Good game, good show.

But with the breathing of his name, his muscles relaxed a little, keeping him from pushing back like he wanted to. See? Nothing to worry about, Remy.. this was your Doctor. He'd said your name. He knew it was you. He wouldn't do anything to hurt you, or scare you. You were fine. Just relax.

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