InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Tequila is my LADY!"

Remy LeBeau (ace_of_clubs) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-10 23:43:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 10, jack harkness, location: post office, remy lebeau

Who: Jack Harkness and Remy LeBeau
What: The Cajun comes back to the Post Office and Jack finds him.
Where: The Post Office
When: 2104 - Day 10
Rating: Er, it's R now.
Status: Complete!

The Cajun had spent his entire day in a way he certainly wasn't interested in spending it. He'd wandered around the outside of the town with the Doctor all morning, which had been great, as they were trying to figure out a way out of here.. but then it'd gone sour when the earthquake had happened. The red-head had very quickly become an unwilling hero and had gone around saving people with the Doctor. At first. He'd tried to escape, and after dropping the people off at the gym he'd gone back out to try and get some time away from any further heroics.. but he'd been hauled in again. Then again. And again. He'd been trying to get into the museum all day, and he'd finally managed it just a while ago. And now here he was, having returned to the Post Office to stare at the closed door. He'd jimmied it shut with a stick earlier in the day so it wouldn't be open for all to see in. He didn't want anyone mucking up his escape, if that tunnel really lead to one.

However, he couldn't bring himself to go inside the building, couldn't bring himself to abandon the people here. Or maybe he couldn't bring himself to abandon the Doctor. He let out a slow breath and pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He felt like an idiot for not being able to leave this people in his dust and hightail it out of here. Just earlier today, he'd been willing to sell them out. But then.. well.. things had happened. Red eyes lowered to the ground, then back up again at the Post Office. He was only standing about five feet from the door, nearly invisible in the dark, in that coat.. except for his hair. That red hair stood out in even the smallest bit of moonlight.

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capt_harkness
2009-06-20 05:53 pm UTC (link)

Oh Jack could tell just how much Gambit was enjoying the attention. Shame it was only his hand, Jack was wondering if he could get other noises from the mouth of the Cajun. However, he had to admit that a groan with a touch of a french accent didn't have the same allure as the Welsh. Close, but not quite. Jack tilted his head back, sighing softly when Gambit nibbled on his neck. Yes, this was quite the way to 'unwind'.

"You want the coat in exchange?" Jack asked, arching an eyebrow. He wanted to laugh. Like hell was anyone getting his greatcoat. It had belonged to the original Captain Jack and he sure as hell wasn't going to turn it over to anyone, not when it had become such a part of him over the past few hundred years. Or two thousand, depending on how y ou wanted to cut the times.

Right now, though, Jack had one arm snaked around Gambit's waist and the other rubbing his groin so it wasn't like he was going to be able to get away that easily. "So you get my coat out of it, and I have to share?" Jack shook his head slightly. "I'd say I'm giving up quite a bit, particularly with such a willing party. And try to lie all you want that you're not interested. My hand knows otherwise." For emphasis, he dug the heel of his hand in one more time, smirking.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-20 06:02 pm UTC (link)

Oh. Shit. God. That was great. The Cajun panted out another short breath and he planted one of his hands against Jack's chest, but didn't push. Fuck. He'd lost this the moment Jack didn't step down, he was only just now starting to realize it. So how the Hell was he going to get out of it? Not that the idea wasn't appealing.. it was getting more and more appealing by the moment, thanks to the older man's talented hand. Oh, man.

That was.. Jesus, Gambit needed to get laid. Badly.

"Oui." Was all he could manage at first, before taking a few breaths and steadying himself. A month was a long time, for the womanizer red-head, he really wanted-- No. He wasn't going to think about that. Stupid Cajun. You'd gotten yourself into this, get yourself out! ... No! Don't get that out! Leave that in! It was too bad he had such a great imagination, because he certainly was using it right now. "'De coa' an' 'de missus. An'.. if non, 'de deal's off." It had taken a lot out of him to say that. And just to make it a bit sweeter, he was fisting a gloved hand into the back of Jack's hair and forcing his head back, so he could mouth along his neck and bite again. It was with that motion that he rolled his lean body against Jack's broader one, like a cat rubbing itself against someone's leg, all parts finding contact at one time or another. Lithe, wily Cajun.

Why was he turning this down again?

Right! Right. Because... uh... fuck.

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capt_harkness
2009-06-20 08:26 pm UTC (link)

When it came to games of chicken (particularly sexual chicken) Jack would always win -- it was a fact of life similar to the notion that the sky was blue (save on Raxacoricofallapatorious of course). Another fact of life that when it came to sexual relations, Captain Harkness always won his dance partners, no matter what. Jack kept his hand moving in the same slow rubbing motion, watching the reactions playing across Gambit's face. Jack was good and he knew it.

Gambit wasn't the only one who needed to get laid -- not that it had been months for Jack, but he still liked sex on a very regular basis. Damn his lube for getting smooshed in the damn earthquake.

That slow smirk settled on Jack's features, watching as Gambit attempted to regain control. Now that wouldn't do at all. Jack needed Gambit off-balance and right now the hand wasn't enough to do the job. Speaking of mouths, Jack wondered if a mouth on Gambit's cock would be enough to get the Cajun off balance. Was always a thought, he supposed. "For someone who says the deal is off if he doesn't get what he wants, you certainly are doing everything in your power to keep me here." Case in point, Jack managed to work the zip of Gambit's trousers down, hand worming its way inside.

There would be no turning this down. No way in hell. And the Coat wasn't part of the deal either.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-20 08:41 pm UTC (link)

"Doin' everyt'in' in my power t' get wha' I wan'." He insisted in a breathy tone, rocking his hips forward as Jack unzipped his jeans. Okay. Maybe they wouldn't need the third party. And maybe the coat wasn't that important. Gambit's hands were straying up, hooking his thumbs into the coat and pushing it down Jack's arms, forcing it to his elbows. Then he was tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it up. On women, he liked breasts. It only made sense that on men, he liked pectorals, and he was able to smooth a hand up over Jack's, thumbing a nipple, as his other hand trailed lower over his abdomen and into his pants, gloved fingers working deftly to get that button undone, and the zipper soon to follow.

Coat? What coat? All Gambit needed was to back Jack up.. he came a few steps forward, graceful even in the lust-driven state, until Jack's back hit the Post Office, and the younger man pulled his hand away from the Captain's chest to plant it against the white washed wood.. and that was when it dawned on him, and black and red eyes lifted away from looking between them, to lock his eyes onto the wood beneath his right hand.

The Post Office.

It took a few seconds, but the Cajun groaned and pulled his hand from Jack's pants, then grabbed onto Jack's wrist to break the contact between those fingers and.. well. To break the contact. And he was stepping back and rubbing at his own neck. Merde. Fuck. This sucked -- or rather, it didn't suck, and that was what sucked. The tunnel was in that Post Office, and he couldn't very well slam Jack up into it without jarring the door loose and revealing the open tunnel down there. It simply wasn't an option, and he was hastily pushing everything back to where it should be and was zipping up his jeans, before quickly buttoning them. He was going to need a cold shower.

"No coa'.." He breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. Deep breaths. Dead puppies. Ugly women. Logan naked -- whoa, that hadn't helped. He really needed to get his mind off of sex. Right now. Come on, Cajun. Come on. No, don't come-- Stop it! Shit. Tunnel. Tunnel. Get a way out of here, get back home, and you could have as many women as you wanted. Just.. there we go. The Cajun was calming himself down. Rats. Rats didn't taste good. They were stringy and bony and just not a good meal. Good. That was better. There we go.

"No coa'," He was able to repeat, finally, sounding more in charge of his voice. "No deal."

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