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Tweak says, "did somebody stole my car?!"

The Doctor (fromgallifrey) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-07-04 00:47:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 14, location: carnival, open, remy lebeau, the doctor (ten)

Day 14: Mid-Morning, the Carnival
Who: The Doctor and OTA
What: Experiencing the effects of the additives
Where: The Carnival
When: 9:46 AM
Rating: TBD (though, to be honest, if we hit PG-13, I'd be totally amazed. Yeah, that's a challenge, Jack :-P)

Status: Complete

Reminder: The Carnival is the site of the sex-inducing chemical additives

There was something amazing about the quiet solitude of the carnival. Perhaps it was that the Doctor had managed to feel cramped and underfoot for nearly five days straight now, an experience he was neither used to nor open to. He missed his TARDIS terribly with it's infinite rooms and general occupancy limit of 3. Sure, sometimes it exceeded three people; but, even then it was so rare there were enough people there for the Time Lord to feel like everyone and everything was in the way. Though, even when there were more than three people his guests generally tried to stay out of his way - which was more than he could say for the people in the museum or the barn. No, the Doctor was not used to having to share his space.

The Doctor had woke up in the back of his bright yellow bumper car. He'd navigated from the pavillion out to the main trail and around the bend to the merry-go-round. He wasn't hungry, not yet any way. Though, from the looks of it he'd managed to sleep pretty late. The sun was already pretty far down in the sky. Hopping up onto the ride's platform, the Doctor settled down into the bench. It was another day in the indestructable glass bubble. There were so many people he'd managed to avoid the day before. Jack, Sarah, Remy, Shannon, Sid, Sam, Tonks... Hell, he'd avoided everyone except that new guy. He'd dug himself a nice, neat little hole, put himself in it and hidden. It was so entirely unlike him that as the Doctor thought about it, he couldn't help but annoy himself. What was he hiding from?

Clicking his tongue on his teeth the Doctor tried to ignore the growing sensation of annoyance and like magic, it seemed to fade away. He didn't like the way he'd been acting, but the more he thought about it if he managed to find someone and dance he might just feel better. Yes, dancing, would make him feel much more comfortable. The Doctor's brow furrowed. He was confused. Dancing didn't have anything to do with feeling impotent or ineffective. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Taking a deep breath. the Doctor's mind sizzled. "Oh.. Oh, no..." He scratched the top of his head. "Oh, come on!" He yowled. There was an additive in the air. It was potent and precise. He could feel it working on his brain and his endochrine system. "Oh, you slimey buggers," he mumbled, clinching his jaw. He'd just have to wait it out; sooner or later this all had to wear off. Of that, the Doctor was certain. Hopefully he'd be left to the solitude of his Merry Go Round.

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fromgallifrey
2009-07-04 08:23 am UTC (link)

That rumbling noise? That one right there? That was almost enough for the Doctor to lose his resolve mostly because that damned chemical would have turned anything he sensed into encouragement. Remy could have jumped back sputtering and to the Time Lord it would have seemed like a call for more.

"Good to know we're on the same page," the Doctor heaved. His eyes kept playing this game of trickling down to the Cajun's mouth and back up again where they'd set with that same steely stubbornness once again. He didn't need nor want the Cajun to tell him in as many words what he wanted. The Doctor already knew what he wanted. It was the chemicals. All the chemicals. Hell, it was the chemicals that made the Doctor be allowed to be dragged about like a rag doll all the sudden by the other man who had him by merely an inch.

The Cajun thought he had him, didn't he? He thought he'd managed to get the Time Lord under control. No one controlled the Time Lord, they just had the appearance of control. Control he let them have. Well, the Doctor, still quite under the influence of the gas had plans of his own.

Pushes and pulls and a certain amount of navigation by the mutant was tolerated only because the Time Lord had been working out his timing very effectively. He'd been waiting his turn and biding the moments until... "Under you?" The Doctor breathed, kicking out a heel and pivoting so that the forward momentum of the Cajun would leave the other man turning as the Doctor served as a fulcrum.

The Doctor held on to the lapels of Gambit's coat, the one he knew so well, as his careful planning landed the red-eyed man back first into a tree where the Doctor had him pinned quite effectively. "I think you have the roles a bit backward here, Cajun," said the Doctor in a tone not often heard. The words were dripping from his lips as they brushed the Cajun's jaw. Hormones. Adrenaline. Chemicals. They were all mixing and telling the Doctor to just go ahead and take what he wanted. For a moment he did. Lips claiming the Cajun's for his own in a heavy, hot kiss before he abruptly pushed away. That was enough.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-07-04 08:36 am UTC (link)

It wasn't enough. The Doctor had tripped him up (which was hard to do to the Cajun, even in this hazy state) and had spun him around rather easily, because Remy was maneuverable right now, understandably. But then he'd been slammed back into that tree and it drew a groan deep in his throat, which echoed into the Time Lord's mouth as he kissed the red-head pinned to the bark of that tree.

Gambit gave as good as he got, pushing into the kiss and gripping at the Doctor's matching lapels -- until the Doctor pushed away.

And was very immediately pulled back in against the taller man. It was a power struggle now, more than anything else. Mouths met again and Remy was stepping into the older man, using his body to press him into walking backwards once again, out into the street-- tripping over the little curb, sorry, Doctor, don't mind it.

Then in mid-stride, the Cajun was deciding that they were both very over-dressed, and he was gripping those lapels harder and jerking it up then back, forcing it over the Doctor's shoulders and down to his elbows, where instead of pulling it off the rest of the way, he actually twisted it around to trap the Time Lord's elbows in against one another, effectively trapping his arms behind him. While one hand held onto the twisted trench, the other arm slipped around the thinner man's back, and they were stepping up over the curb across the street just in time for Gambit to slam the Doctor's back into a tree near a bench that looked like it could have been for a bus stop. But they were only paces away from the museum.. so the two gasses would very quickly begin to mingle.

But would they mingle fast enough, or was Gambit going to get the Doctor's shirt untucked? He was working on that right now, in fact.

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fromgallifrey
2009-07-04 08:54 am UTC (link)

Good reflexes. Great reflexes. It was like a little gift of evolution. Or, well, just one of those things that came with being a Gallifreyan. Or, perhaps it just came with time. Either way, it wasn't so hard to trip a Cajun when they seemed to want to be. It was even easier to consume the Cajun's lips when they seemed to want that to happen, too.

The Doctor, however, tried to be clear that deep, deep down he knew that this was good for neither of them; that was why he'd pushed backward and severed the kiss. The Doctor had managed the presence of mind to stop at that kiss; yet, he didn't manage the same as Remy yanked him back into him again. More pushing, more pulling. That was just, simply put, unsatisfactory. When was the mutant going to learn that the Doctor would not be controlled in this manner?

The Cajun was pulling at his jacket, tugging it away, trying to remove layers between them. The Doctor, however, was very insistent in his own mind that layers were good, they needed layers. They especially needed layers that were not being used as methods of restraint. The Doctor growling into the Cajun's mouth. If there was anything he disliked most about the Cajun it was an uncanny ability to want to contain him. It was annoying.

The press of the other into him against the tree made the Doctor think a moment. He could still use his legs. He could still use his weight. He could still win and get the Cajun off of him. He could do it, he could manage to ignore the white hot fire in his head and his gut. He could most certainly forget about how good this entire thing felt. It may have felt good, but it was a very bad idea.

The Doctor kicked off the tree, pressing against the Cajun as he forced the other to move. Gambit might be able to hold onto the Doctor's arms with one hand for now; but wait until this move was complete. The bench now directly behind the mutant; the Doctor, with a shift of his hips, hooked his calf in behind the other's knee, pulling backward with it and forcing the bend as he leaned his shoulder into the other, the carefully choreographed plan to make the other sit on the bench.

"Enough, Remy," the Doctor ordered.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-07-04 09:05 am UTC (link)

Oh, the Doctor was so good at that. And Gambit was moved relatively easily once again, pressing his body into the heat of the other man's, before he was sunk onto the bench. He might have gotten up to go after the Time Lord again, but the use of his given name caused bleary eyes to snap up again and lock onto brown, studying hard as if warring with himself over a decision he was trying to make. Ultimately, logic won out. It was obvious because of the groan he let out, and the way he toppled over onto his side on the bench, lifelessly crumpling onto the green-painted wood and letting out a heavy breath once he got there.

"Oui. 'nuff." He agreed with a lazy nod of his head, breathing in deeply. The more he breathed in, the more he wanted to smile. And eventually, the growing smile on his face turned into a laugh. This whole situation was funny. Really, it was. And while the gas from the carnival had by no means passed out of his system yet, the gas from the museum was intermingling and causing the laughter. Now he was horny and laughing. But at least the laughter gave him something to distract himself from wanting to tear the Doctor's clothes off. And, really, it helped to clear his head some. Both of them.

"We jus' gotta get 'way from Le Carnaval, Docteur. Differen' places make you feel differen' ways. 'De barn.. oh, 'de barn nice, chere." The endearment again -- he was calling the Doctor 'Dear' now. Sorry, Doctor. It'd wear off. Maybe.

"Gotta nice mix in 'de barn." Gambit repeated slowly, before opening red eyes again and looking up at the Doctor, hovering over him. He was so tall from the laying position the Cajun had taken up. He wished the Time Lord would come down here and lay with him. That'd be nice.

No. That'd be bad. Very bad. So bad. They were both bad. Bad boys had to be spank---WHOA. Not going there, Cajun. He lifted a gloved hand to rub over his face with a sudden laugh. Oh, he could picture that. "C'mon." He insisted again. "I'm t'inkin' 'bou' spankin' you." He slowly pushed himself to sit upright. It was time to get away from this location.

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fromgallifrey
2009-07-04 09:16 am UTC (link)

If asked, the Doctor would be entirely unable to articulate exactly which feeling was greater in him: that of disappointment or relief. Most likely, it was disappointment as he felt the diminishing heat about him where they had formerly been locked together. It was sort of sad to feel his breath return to normal and his pulse start to slow. It was hard, even as the gas was metabolized not to take up residence against the Cajun again. Good thing that the doctor was a man of will power. He could have easily echoed that groan of the mutants; but that would just be in poor taste.

As Remy agreed that enough was enough, the Doctor backed away, the cord severed between them thankfully allowing the Doctor to lean back against the tree he'd formerly been pinned to. There was a laugh tickling the corners of his brain. It was sort of funny, when he didn't think about it, what had just happened. The Cajun did look sort of ridiculous there all huddled up on the bench.

"You Remy. Me Doctor," he reminded, catching his breath and scratching the top of his head. Different additives for different places? Was that what Remy had been getting at? Well, The Doctor wanted to get as far away from the Carnival as he could manage. So, he turned and started walking, already starting to laugh uncontrollably. They had to get someplace else.

"C'mon, Gambit!" He laughed over his shoulders. At least the laughter was helping him forget the discomfort. That was a plus.

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