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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 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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