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In the five years since he'd joined the priesthood, Jud had never strayed. Not even once. The vow of celibacy was, surprisingly, one of the least difficult things about his new life. It wasn't that he hadn't liked sex, it was just that he didn't have any real problem going without.
At least, that had been the case until he met Benoit Blanc.
It had been a relief, really, when Blanc had declined to attend Our Lady of Perpetual Grace's first church service — as much as Jud had wished he'd attend, stick around a little longer, he knew he was toeing a risky line by inviting Blanc to stay. The truth was, as much as they'd butted heads and disagreed on nearly everything that Jud considered fundamental to his very way of life, he hadn't wanted Blanc to go, because he knew that once he did, that would be it. Blanc would move on to his next big case, and Jud couldn't imagine his work would bring him to his church again. (At least, he really hoped it wouldn't. Jud wanted to see Blanc again, but not enough to want another murder to happen among his congregation.) Jud didn't want that to happen. He didn't want to become a footnote in the great detective's casebook, he realized.
But that realization had forced Jud to confront why he didn't want Blanc to disappear from his life, and it was something he hadn't wanted to think about. For the most part, he'd done a decent enough job at avoiding it, at least during his waking hours. He couldn't control what happened in his dreams, the sensations that would overwhelm him in his sleep, causing him to wake up flushed and hard and with his pulse racing. Jud was certain that God wouldn't condemn for what happened in his mind when he was unconscious, but those few times he'd given in, imagining it was the detective's hand around his cock and not his own, burying his face in his pillow to muffle the sound of his moaning, he was less sure about.
It didn't matter, Jud had decided. He'd never see Blanc again, and that was for the best. He could continue the life he'd chosen, the life he loved—a life of service to those in need, to God. That was all he needed. He could do without the things he wanted.
That was, until Blanc arrived at Our Lady of Perpetual Grace, over a year since Jud had seen him last.
At first, he hadn't been sure he wasn't imagining things. He'd been giving a sermon to a respectable crowd. After all the chatter around the Good Friday Murders had finally faded, after people stopped coming just to gawk or gossip, Jud had managed to establish a small group of regulars, and several more people who came in every few weeks or so. There were also the C&E Catholics who, God bless them, usually could be counted upon to throw a few dollars in the collection plate the two times per year they did show up. The church was never full except for Christmas Eve, but the pews were never so empty as they had been during Wicks' tenure, and the only time anyone had walked out was when Jud gave a sermon about immigration and how the Christlike thing to do would be to welcome refugees and help them. Jud had been sad to see the woman storm out, but she was a local, so he hoped she'd come back and maybe open her mind and heart a little more. Overall, things were going far better than Jud had dared hope when he became the sole priest of this little church.
He'd gotten good at sermons, too, and almost never tripped over his words, but that changed when the door opened and a latecomer slipped into one of the back pews. Jud never would've commented on the man's lateness directly—better late than never, and, hell, if he was only here for the free snacks and drinks after the service, Jud would gladly take it. Today's "just showed up for the coffee hour" was tomorrow's regular, after all. But that day, when his eyes instinctively flicked towards the latecomer, Jud choked on his sentence, completely losing his rhythm. Benoit Blanc sat in the back row, and he raised his eye brows and waved forward as if to say, "Go on."
So Jud did go on. He coughed, excused himself, and picked up where he'd left off, hoping his embarrassment and shock didn't show on his face. (They did.)
He somehow made his way through the rest of the sermon, said hello to all the regulars and the handful of non-regulars who wanted to talk to him. He hoped Blanc would approach him, but it seemed the detective was intent on being polite and letting Jud finish doing his job. Or maybe he just wanted to make the priest squirm. Either seemed possible.
Finally, during coffee hour, Jud managed to catch up with him. "This is a surprise," was what he said by way of greeting.
"Good or bad?"
"Good." That was never a question. He smiled at him. "Absolutely good."
"You know this doesn't mean I believe in God now, right?"
Jud rolled his eyes, but the smile didn't fade. "I figured. What brings you here?"
"Oh, I was just in the area, realized it was Sunday and figured I'd come by for a visit." He shrugged. "Can we talk?"
"Sure."
"I mean, once you're done here. Once everyone goes."
Jud tilted his head, unable to mask his surprise. But he repeated, "Sure," and then added, "It may be a long wait."
In the end, it took nearly two hours for the last coffee hour stragglers to clear out. The administrator he'd hired to replace Martha excused herself then, cheerily promising she'd seen Father Jud on Tuesday, and the two men were left alone.
Jud felt like he ought to bring Blanc someplace public, or at least out in the open.
Instead, he brought Blanc up to his room. It was the same one he'd had when they last saw each other. He didn't mind the small space, and he didn't like the idea of using Wicks' old room. Maybe he'd turn it into storage or something.
Blanc remained standing as Jud sat on his bed, having shed the robes he wore for Sunday Mass. Jud expected Blanc to take the chair, but he didn't.
"Is this about a case?" Jud asked.
"No, nothing like that."
There was a pause, Jud waiting expectantly, but Blanc seemed to be struggling to get his thoughts in order.
"I'm glad for the privacy," Blanc finally said. "I, uh. I didn't want an audience, except you. I have something I need to get off my mind."
"Blanc," Jud said, fighting a smile, "do you want to give Confession?"
Blanc snorted. "Wouldn't we have to go downstairs for that? Get in those silly phonebooths and pretend you wouldn't recognize my voice immediately, that I wouldn't know which of the one possible priest was listening?"
"Only if you wanted to."
Blanc was quiet for a surprisingly long time, and Jud was worried he'd pushed it too far. He was about to apologize, when Blanc looked him in the eye and said, with only a little bit of irony, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been… thirty years since my last Confession, give or take."
"What do you wish to confess?"
"Oh, hell, let's start with the general arrogance—sin of pride and whatnot. Probably done more than my fair share of wrath, though I try to keep that one in check."
"Anything specific?" When Blanc didn't answer right away, Jud gave him a small smile, scooting forward to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Blanc, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I know you don't really believe in all this."
"But you do."
"Sure, but me believing doesn't really matter here."
"You'd be surprised." Blanc let out a sigh, not meeting his eyes. "I lied to a priest. I suppose that's specific."
"I'd say it is," Jud said. "What priest?"
"You," Blanc said dryly, "when I said I was 'just in the area.'"
"Oh?" Heat prickled up the back of his neck.
"I drove out here to see you."
"You did?" Somehow, Jud was now only capable of asking questions.
"I've wanted to drive out here to see you every day for a year."
Jud's breath caught in his throat for a moment, and in that moment, his mind flickered back to the version of Blanc that had visited him in his dreams. Immediately, he tried to push those images away—it was bad enough that he was struggling with carnal desires, it would be even worse to do so with the object of those desires right in front of him.
"I've thought about what I'd say," Blanc continued. "How much I'd hate sitting through the service but how I'd do it to talk to you. But now I'm here, and I've done it, and I have no idea what to say."
"That must not happen to you often," Jud said, relieved at how level his voice was.
"No," Blanc admitted. His gaze flicked upwards to meet Jud's. "Have you wanted to see me?"
"Yes." Lying was never an option, not for Jud.
"You could've reached out."
"So could you."
"Fair enough," Blanc said with a small laugh.
Jud watched Blanc closely, trying to decipher his expression. He seemed nervous, maybe even troubled. He looked like he was at war with himself.
"Is something wrong?" Jud asked. "Is something specific going on that made you want to… want to see me?"
That had to be it. People would turn to religion during times of hardship, even nonbelievers. No atheists in the foxhole, wasn't that the saying?
But Blanc simply laughed again, tilting his head. "You're really gonna make me say it, aren't you, Father?"
"Oh." The word came out in an exhale, and despite his shock, Jud was suddenly sure that he did know what Blanc was here to speak about. It was almost a relief to know Jud hadn't been the only one to feel the pull between them, to know that Blanc had thought of him in the last year in the same way he had thought of Blanc. To know that maybe this was inevitable, had been ever since Blanc came across him kneeling on the chapel floor.
But it couldn't—it couldn't happen, nothing could happen, Jud had taken a vow, he had given himself entirely to service and to God and to his congregation, nothing could be more important than that. That was what he'd spent the last year telling himself.
"You don't need to say anything, I don't expect—" Blanc began to say, and Jud's body moved with no input from his brain, or his faith.
Jud stood, grasping the front of Blanc's shirt, and he pressed his mouth to his, kissing the other man with the intensity of someone taking their last breath.
Blanc stumbled backwards, plainly taken off-guard, but quickly wrapped his arms around Jud's waist, kissing him back and pushing his tongue into his mouth. Jud moaned involuntarily, one of his hands going to rest on Blanc's back, and he was suddenly acutely aware that this moment was his chance to back out, to end this before it got out of hand.
He would hate himself for going further. He would hate himself for stopping.
Blanc began kissing his jaw, trailing down to his neck, and Jud wanted to pull away and go back to the life he'd chosen, the life he wanted.
He pulled Blanc to him, kissing his lips again, and Jud wanted to give himself over and damn the consequences.
He racked up the sins in his head — even discounting the vow of celibacy, even without Blanc technically being a member of the congregation, this had to count as violating the Seal somehow — and he scorned himself for every single one. He didn't scorn Blanc. He needed him too much.
"You don't want to do this," Blanc gasped when they pulled away from each other just enough to breathe.
"I do, I just I wish I didn't," Jud said, before he leaned in to kiss him again.
Their bodies pushing against one another, each desperate to feel the other's warmth, Jud felt Blanc harden as he dragged his tongue along his neck, kissing the skin every now and then. Blanc didn't comment on it, didn't make any move to tend to his desire or have Jud do so, but Jud could see the lust and need in his eyes, could feel the way his breath grew more labored.
Jud had lowered himself to his knees before Blanc could say a word. Kneeling on the floor, looking up at Blanc's face, Jud reached to undo Blanc's belt, undo the zipper. If Blanc told him to stop, he would—but they both knew there was no chance of that happening.
Blanc was only half-hard when the priest first touched him, but that quickly changed. Spitting on the length, Jud's hand was quick to get to work, and it didn't take him long to bring him to full mast. His own cock hardening as he continued to kneel there, Jud let go of him, gazing up at Blanc and waiting to see what he'd do.
"When was the last time you did this?" Blanc asked, voice strained by arousal. His cock twitched.
"This, specifically? Never," he admitted.
He didn't give time for Blanc to respond before he grabbed at the base of his cock again and gave it a gentle squeeze, the way he would sometimes do to himself, the way that always felt good. Blanc gave a low groan of approval, and slid one hand into the priest's curly hair. "You sure?" he asked.
By way of a reply, Jud wet his lips with his tongue, before inching just a little closer, leaning in to brush his tongue against the length of the other man's cock. He only had what he'd liked in his previous life to go off of, but judging from the way Blanc moaned as he continued to explore with his tongue, that was more than sufficient. As he moved upwards to take the tip into his mouth, Jud's own arousal intensified. No one was touching him or trying to get him off, not the way the women he'd been with had, not the way Blanc had in his fantasies, and yet Jud had never been more turned on in his life than he was kneeling on the floor, sucking Blanc's cock.
Blanc moaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Jesus Christ," he breathed. Neither of them were in a position to comment on the irony of that.
Slowly, Jud sank further down, taking more of Blanc into his mouth, and the detective helped him along, guiding him and helping him find a pace that did the job. Blanc pulled gently at his hair, and Jud could only let out a small, appreciative moan before he came up for air, just for a moment. They repeated this cycle a few more times, a gentle, slow push down before Blanc would pull him back up, Jud taking a couple inches at a time, getting to know his taste.
"I've wanted this for so long," Jud admitted in between gasps.
"You hid it well," Blanc chuckled. He reached down to touch Jud's face, and the tenderness sent shivers down his spine. "I don't want to push you too hard."
"I want you to." He was so hard, he ached. "I want every inch of you."
Blanc's breath caught in his throat. "Keep going."
"I want you to fuck my mouth," he said, the words flowing out of him faster than he could think. "I want you to use me however you want. I want to be your—"
He was cut off by Blanc pushing his length into his mouth again, and Jud thought he might faint from how good he felt. This felt so right in this moment, giving Blanc what he wanted. What they both wanted.
Gradually, desire began to win out over caution, and Blanc's grip on his hair tightened. Jud's moans came out smothered and low as Blanc guided him down the length of his cock, faster and rougher than before. He hadn't thought it was possible to take so much of his length into his mouth at once, and yet, that was what he was doing—and it was clear from the way Blanc was gazing down at him that he loved it. Blanc's movements grew rougher, greedier, thrusting his cock even deeper into the priest's mouth, letting out a groan of pleasure as Jud's tongue moved against him.
They found a rhythm together, one that was almost too fast for Jud, but he had no intention of asking Blanc to slow down. Jud wanted Blanc to use him, his body, to serve him to the best of his ability. He loved being used in this way, by this man, he loved the way he could barely breathe as Blanc fucked his mouth, the way Blanc pulled him by the hair and growled, "That's it," as Jud finally took the entirety of his cock. He loved the way he tasted, the way he could feel Blanc's cock pulsing in his mouth as he sucked on it. Jud's own cock was aching from desperation, and he knew that if he'd been able to speak, he might have given into one more temptation and begun to beg. But that wasn't what he was here for. He was here to be of service.
Blanc's pace stuttered, his breathing grew more ragged, and that was how Jud knew he was close. He sucked harder, desperate to hear how Blanc would sound at the moment of release, desperate to finally bring him to ecstasy, but suddenly, Blanc pushed him off.
For a moment, Jud worried he'd done something wrong, worried he'd failed him in some way, but then he saw Blanc's face—flushed, gasping—and his eyes trailed back down to his cock, which was still throbbing, precum already leaking from the tip. He watched as Blanc went to grab the base of his cock and he realized that Blanc had thought he wouldn't want him to finish inside of his mouth. Jud was quick to correct him, reaching up to place a hand on Blanc's wrist. When the detective looked down at him and their eyes met, Jud simply opened his mouth again, an open invitation.
Blanc let out an exhausted, throaty chuckle. "Fuck," he muttered, as he began to jerk off into Father Jud's mouth. It only took him a few desperate strokes before he reached his climax, and when he did, Jud swallowed what he could gratefully, the nerves that came with unfamiliarity easily outweighed by the satisfaction he got from being the cause.
Blanc was panting, coming back down to Earth, when Jud's resolve finally broke, and the priest's hand slid over the fabric of his trousers, feeling his own arousal. Jud let out a small moan, bordering on pitiful from the way he tried to keep it in, and Blanc said softly, "I can take care of you now."
"No—" Jud shook his head, even as he went to undo his belt.
Blanc's surprise showed on his face, but he didn't move.
"No," Jud repeated. He could feel Blanc's eyes on him as he pushed away the fabric and took his length into his hand. When he looked up at him, he could see Blanc's tongue darting across his upper lip, so quickly that Blanc may not have even been aware he was doing it. The same lust that had clouded Blanc's eyes before was still there, and he was staring at Jud like he wanted to devour him.
Part of Jud wanted to let him, to let Blanc show him what he meant by taking care of him. He'd dreamt of it before—Blanc taking him into his mouth, Blanc holding him in his lap at the altar and jerking him off, Blanc pinning him to the bed he'd just been sitting on and fucking him until he couldn't see straight. But those dreams weren't to become reality. That would be another boundary broken, or at least, that's how Jud justified it to himself. If he only pleasured Blanc and himself, if he didn't allow Blanc to pleasure him, then he could still come back from this. Then there were sins he hadn't yet committed.
So he didn't beg for Blanc to touch him, didn't grab Blanc to make him hard again so he could take his length inside of him, though both thoughts made him whimper. Instead, he whispered, "Just stay there," before he spat in his hand and went to touch himself.
Blanc's chest heaved as he watched, but he didn't break eye contact as Jud desperately, frantically jerked himself off, fighting to keep his moans quiet enough that no one outside this room would hear. The intensity of his gaze drove him to the edge even faster, and when he finally came, Jud invoked both Blanc's name and that of the Lord in the same ecstatic breath.
The high of his orgasm felt like it would last forever, until, very suddenly, it didn't. It was like a tidal wave crashing to shore, the return to where he really was, who he really was. Jud knelt on the floor, gasping for air, eyes screwed shut, tears forming, his mind racing as the full reality of what he'd just done hit him.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, bless me, Father, for I have sinned, bless me, Father, for I—
Suddenly, he felt Blanc's hands on his face, and he exhaled softly as Blanc pressed a kiss to his forehead. He opened his eyes, and found the detective crouched in front of him, watching him closely. Blanc's face was slightly flushed, his clothes slightly rumbled, but otherwise, he didn't look the least bit disheveled or out of sorts. Not like Jud, who knew he looked like a mess. Felt like one, too. He knew he was crying, and immediately felt worthless because of it. He wanted to hide. He should've been better, should've done better—
"Let me clean you up," Blanc said softly, meeting Jud's eyes.
Jud found himself unable to speak, so he simply nodded, not looking away from the other man's face. Maybe Blanc understood that Jud was incapable of forming words at the moment, because he didn't say anything else. He simply wiped his tears away, put his arms around the priest and brought him to his feet. Blanc undressed him slowly before walking him to the small bathroom and closing the door behind him. Blanc reached to turn on the shower, and Jud felt the weight of his sin around his neck, but for the moment, he decided he could live with it. The guilt would be there in an hour, or whenever Blanc left him. For now, he would let it be washed away.