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Jud doesn’t know where to go, what to do or think. In a habit he falls to his knees, hands clasping together, crouched over, hands on his forehead as he digs into the earth beneath him and starts chanting, bubbling his name like a mantra.
He chants God’s name under his breath, over and over, like a mantra meant to keep him grounded. The prayers spill from his lips without structure, sinking into the mud as his weight shifts forward. His elbows scrape the ground, quickly stained with dirt, and he presses his mouth against his knuckles, still whispering, still praying.
He needs an answer, he needs to know what to do, this cannot be the right way.
A tear falls down his cheek, down to his chin and beneath him onto the ground, where it disappears without a trace. The forest around him is unnervingly quiet, it‘s as if the world around him stopped, it‘s just him and his train of thoughts, racing and not knowing how to stop.
“Please,” he breathes. “Please, p-please…” is all he can say at this point, begging for an answer, begging for guidance, for forgiveness, for thoughts he never wanted and sins he doesn’t know how to escape.
But there is no answer. No sign. No comfort.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t care and suddenly Jud is sobbing, hands dragging roughly over his face as the prayers dissolve into whimpers and broken cries.
„SHIT!“
The word tears itself from his throat in a yell, as he sits back on his heels with a grunt, chest heaving. He stares up at the sky, eyes burning.
“God, I’m sorry,” he adds hoarsely, the apology sounding small even to himself. With a strained grunt, he pushes himself to his feet.
His knees ache, his hands tremble, and the familiar weight settles back onto his shoulders the moment he stops praying. His collar feels tighter than usual as he turns toward the path leading back to the church.
Sunlight spills across the iron gate as he reaches it, harsh and blinding after the dim stillness of the forest. Jud pauses, glancing down at his watch before lifting his gaze to the church.
„Father, are you alright?“
„JESUS!“ Jud flinches, shoulders jerking as the detective’s voice cuts through his thoughts.
For a split second, his heart stumbles in his chest. He hadn’t heard him approach, too lost in his own head for that.
Him being present was the last thing he needed right now. And yet, they were both expected at the meeting with Cy. Mandatory, as he had called it so there was no avoiding it.
„Oh, my apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.“ Benoit says softly. Jud shrugs as he turns around.
It‘s kind of ironic, back when they first met, Jud was in a similar situation, shaken, on his knees, barely holding himself together. But for an entirely different reason.
For being a possible murderer, not some stupid thoughts and feelings.
„It‘s okay, come in.“ is all he says, avoiding the detective's gaze.
They‘re supposed to meet with Cy and his lawyer again. Just like they did a month ago and the one before that. It‘s been over a year now, after Blanc had solved the case, but Cy wouldn’t budge. Still believed that somehow he must have missed something and is now still trying to frame Jud for stealing Eve‘s apple.
Blanc of course knows Jud, knows what he did with the diamond, but has no intention in ever telling anyone else about it.
That’s what he swore to Jud, that one night when they were sitting in the rectory together, drinking and Jud had a few too many and lazily, in a drunken haze confessed to the detective.
-
They had been sitting in front of the fire for hours now, it crackled softly, a steady, almost comforting sound that filled the room when neither of them spoke.
Blanc turned another page of his book, though he had stopped truly reading minutes ago.
His eyes flicked up every so often, drawn to Jud’s face, illuminated by the fire. The priest looked smaller somehow, shoulders slumped, fingers curled too tightly around the bottle of booze as if it were the only thing keeping him anchored.
The room had been quiet for a few minutes, Blanc reading away the time with a book in his lap, unlike Jud who had been staring into the calm flames of the fire.His eyes reflected the light, and it almost looked as if the flames were dancing in them. For a moment Blanc wondered how long Jud had been lost in that quiet, wrestling with thoughts he hadn’t yet dared to name.
„Blanc-c.“ The way his name cracked made Blanc’s stomach drop.
Jud’s movements were unsteady as he slid from the chair to his knees in front of the detective, the bottle swaying dangerously in his unsure grasp.
Up close, Blanc could see the sheen of tears clinging stubbornly to Jud’s lashes, his face pale and drawn in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
If it wasn’t for the look on the priest's face, Blanc would have thought about something else entirely, with Jud on his knees, between his legs.
„Yes, father? What is it?“ he looks at him.
„Take my-my confession?“ he asks carefully, it‘s been a few weeks since Martha had died, with no person around that Jud trusted. His heart felt heavy, a weight on his shoulders that he wasn’t able to shake off, a mix of guilt, confusion and fear.
„Oh well, yes of course.“ Blanc replies and smiles at the young priest. He still was a no-believer but he‘d do anything for Jud and his pure heart.
That’s when Jud told him, with tears streaming down his cheeks, but such sincerity, it made Blanc's heart ache. He felt sorry for the young priest, such a heavy decision, almost a burden after everything he‘s already been through.
„It‘s okay, it’s alright.“ Blanc says as he pets Jud‘s back and squeezes his shoulder, he looks up at him. „I won‘t tell a soul, I swear.“
When Jud looked up at him, eyes red and pleading, Blanc knew there was no universe in which he would ever betray that trust.
That‘s when Jud smiled at him, fragile, clasped Blanc’s hands as if they were something sacred, almost like in prayer and whispered a genuine ‚thank you‘ into them. The bottle of booze clanking onto the floor, but not breaking. Unlike Jud’s, who felt himself break in this very second.
-
They went inside the church, the sun shining through the door, illuminating the new cross above the altar. „I like your craftsmanship.” said Benoit quietly, making Jud turn around.
„Oh? Oh, yeah. You hadn’t seen it finished yet.” the priest looks at him, then at the cross, back at him. Blanc just nods, a smile on his lips in acknowledgement and respect.
Jud had just recently hung the cross with the wooden Jesus on the wall, right before his first mass a few days ago.
Blanc didn’t show up, much to Jud’s disappointment. He knew Blanc and he knew that he didn’t care about any of that. It’s just storytelling and Blanc was a realist, not one to be wrapped up in stories and miracles. Probably a habit of the job, Jud always thought.
It was sooner than expected as the others arrived. Cy‘s lawyers, Cy himself and of course bishop Langstrom.
Cy had insisted after the last meeting, to search the church himself, with the help of his lawyers. Jud of course agreed with them, knowing no matter what, they wouldn’t find it, simply because no one of them believed.
Watching them search was rather amusing for the three men, as they sat there and exchanged looks.
„This is stupid, what are we? Children on Easter Sunday?“ said Blanc and Jud chuckled.
„Well, if they don‘t want to believe us…“ said Langstrom with a knowing grin. He didn’t know what had occurred on this certain night, but he believed in Jud. That alone was enough for him, he knew Jud was pure and only meant good.
They kept searching and arguing with Jud and Langstrom, throwing accusations at Blanc, because he must know where the diamond is. He was the only one there besides the Priest.
He denies everything.
By the time they’re done and stepping outside, it’s already nearing five. The sun has sunk low enough to cast long shadows across the churchyard. The warmth of it is long gone, as the wind moves through the leaves, making a howling sound.
„I’ll keep my eyes on you. I‘ll take what’s rightfully mine!“ is the last thing Cy says to Jud as he gets in his car and drives off with his lawyers.
„Rightfully his, sure thing.” Benoit chuckles and pats Jud‘s shoulder, who grins at the detective. They both look at each other and suddenly something shifts. A flicker in Benoit's eyes, a tug at Jud’s lips.
„Well, that was something.“ says Langstrom as he walks outside the church, making them both turn around.
„I better get going, it was good seeing you both, despite the rather unfortunate circumstances.“ he says as he faces them both, shaking their hands as they say their goodbyes.
They watch him leave. The only sound left is the wind moving through the trees. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, almost intimate, as Benoit stands so close beside him. And all of it makes the young priest nervous.
„I should close up and get back to the rectory." Jud blurts out suddenly, panic creeping in as he feels his thoughts beginning to wander once again.
„Allow me to help you.” Blanc offers, but Jud is quick to deny the request.
„No, no-it’s fine, I can do it.” He manages to say. “You’ve already helped me so much.”
„At least let me walk you back to the rectory? For old times’ sake.” the detective asks, puppy eyes as he looks at the priest. It was normal for them to, after one of those stupid meetings, end up in the rectory with a drink between them, talking about nothing and everything, just like friends did.
He sighs.
He’s a fool to think that he could ever deny the detective.
That’s what scares him.
„Okay, just…” He hesitates, thinks for a second, then gestures vaguely with his hands. „Wait for me here, I’ll be quick.” Blanc nods and off the priest goes.
Jud is quick to close up the church and Blanc is almost grateful for it, the cold has already crept beneath his coat, thanks to the rather stormy weather.
„Off we go?” Jud asks as he fumbles with the keys, eyes fixated on the ground, shoulders hunched. He’s already moving toward the narrow path into the forest before Blanc can answer.
Blanc looks at him confused. Why the hurry?
They’re walking in silence towards the rectory and with each step Benoit is more confused and Jud more nervous.
He doesn’t even really know why, they’ve done this so many times already.
Something was different tonight, an unfamiliar weight on his shoulders. Desire was taking over his mind, with Blanc walking so close behind him.
He was too close and not close enough at the same time, why did Jud feel like that all of a sudden? For the past months he had been so good, pushing down his feelings.
He took a vow!
But that vow felt empty now, no matter what he did, his mind wouldn’t stop, his body wouldn’t stop reacting.
„Jud?” Blanc's voice is loaded with concern as he grabs the priest's shoulder, they stop in their tracks and Jud looks around. He hadn’t even realised that they had arrived.
„Benoit.” He just says and forces a smile, as he turns around.
„Are you-?” the detective starts, but Jud interrupts him.
„Let’s just get inside, yeah? It’s cold out here.” he gestures at the little house and Blanc hesitates but nods.
Inside, they get comfortable, they settle down in one of the chairs, across from each other, in front of the fireplace. Benoit lights a cigar while Jud pours them both a glass of whiskey. He sits back and suddenly Benoit stands, stepping closer in front of the priest.
„May I?” he asks and Jud doesn’t know what the detective has in mind. He only looks up at him, eyes wide, and nods.
Blanc's hands find his collar.
Jud’s breath catches as fingers brush his neck, adjusting the clerical collar with an intimacy that makes his pulse spike and heart beating fast against his ribcage. He kind of feels like a teenager again, getting worked up and flustered over the smallest gestures.
Blanc is focused, the cigar still resting between his lips as he fixes the collar.
He smells of smoke and cologne, something almost floral beneath it, it’s just so him and the scent alone is enough to make Jud’s thoughts scatter. It‘s intoxicating, to say the least and the young priest believes he could get drunk off of it.
„Sorry, it has been bothering me for a while.” he chuckles and clears his throat as he sits back in his chair again. Jud nods with blown pupils and thanks the detective.
Then it hits him.
Jud is fucked.
He realises as he just keeps staring at the detective, who takes a sip of the whiskey, a content smile on his face as he watches the flames. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from him. Blanc takes a slow sip of whiskey, relaxed, almost pleased. Jud bites his lip. Another drag from his cigarette, another sip, another flicker of flames in his blue eyes.
He swallows. He can‘t deny him, he could never not act on what he is feeling.
Jud is so fucked.
The pushing down, praying away, bottling up, it had been of no use. He can’t escape what he is feeling, it’s frustrating, almost frightening as he sits there, so close to him. But he can’t, he isn’t allowed to.
„It’s rude to stare, you know.” Blanc suddenly says playfully. His breath hitches again.
Shit.
„I-I- oh.” He looks down at his lap, ashamed and grabs his glass, taking a big sip. „Sorry.” he gulps.
„It’s quite alright.” He gestures around with his hand, the cigar long abandoned in the ashtray. How much time had passed, how long had he been staring?
„Fighting demons?” Blanc asks.
„How did you-”
„Oh please, Jud. I’m a 57 year old gay man.” His tone is almost mocking, but gentle, teasing. The way his name rolls off his tongue makes Jud’s chest tighten. He nearly whimpers.
He’s pathetic.
„Just tell me when they’ve won.”
„Blanc, I can’t…” Jud starts, his voice small, defeated. All the fighting, after all those months of pining. He‘s a good priest, he knows better.
„Oh, Father, I can see you breaking, tearing at the seams, wanting to get out.” he takes a sip of whiskey.
„Your breath gets stuck in your throat every time I’m near you, pulse racing, eyes always on me. Your body language is quite obvious.”
Jud is flustered, exposed and hot. Benoit Blanc reads him like an open book, effortlessly knowing what he thinks, feels. He understands him, almost better than Jud understands himself.
He gets up in one swift motion and sinks to his knees between Blanc's legs.
„Oh, boy.” There is a hint of shock in the detective's surprised face. His hands find the older’s knees and push them apart, nestling himself closer between them. Face centimeters away from Benoit's crotch.
The priest looks up at the detective, eyes glossy, thoughts racing, not even now he can feel his presence.
Did he give up on him?
Blanc‘s hand finds Jud’s cheek, his thumb carefully caressing it. It‘s soft and tender, yet his hand is firm, like a reminder of how heated this situation actually is.
„It‘s okay, Jud. It‘s all okay.“ Blanc murmurs as a tear slips down the priest's cheek, wiping it away with his thumb. „You‘re safe.“ he just says as he leans down.
His breath is hot on his face, blue and green eyes staring at each other. It’s not a battle, it‘s an understanding, an unspoken agreement.
Time slows, stretches.
Jud needs a moment to catch up with himself. He moves closer, the space between them disappearing until it feels impossible to breathe properly. He looks at Blanc and suddenly his hand is on the back of his head, lightly tugging at the curls, to see a reaction.
He‘s helpless in the hands of the detective and he knows that, as soon as that is enough to make the priest let out a low moan.
There is a smirk on Benoit's face, he‘s satisfied with the reaction and Jud should feel embarrassed, but he doesn’t and that‘s when he decides that it is enough. He looks up at Benoit, eyes glassy, thoughts spiralling.
One sharp look and their lips collide. The kiss is clumsy, unpracticed, full of too much feeling and not enough. He‘s out of practice after going celibate for over ten years. They break apart for a split second, just looking at each other.
For the first time in a long while, the noise in Jud’s head falls quiet.
It doesn’t stay like that for too long, when he moves again, it’s hesitant but deliberate, testing, searching, tasting. Soon enough their lips connect again and he‘s eager as he pants beneath the detective, still between his legs on his knees. His hands are tangled at the back of Blanc‘s neck. They are breathless, laughing softly against each other’s mouths.
Jud enjoys the power Benoit has over him.
All his worries, his doubts and fears are washed away, what has he been so afraid of?
Benoit tugs at his curls once more, making Jud moan right into the older‘s mouth. It‘s delicious, filthy and so hot.
Tongues dancing, exploring each other’s mouths, taking their time, getting to know one another in this new way. Blanc can‘t help but smile against the priest's lips and it makes his chest beam with warmth.
They break apart, and Jud offers him a smile small and unsure. The light of the fireplace dancing across his features in hues of red, yellow and gold. Benoit’s heart aches at the sight of him, so beautiful, unguarded, full of faith and a softness that feels dangerously fragile.
Somewhere in the distance they can hear the wind howl and the fire crackling softly. The world seems to fall away around them, it makes all of this feel almost ethereal.
He can’t help himself as he pulls the priest up into his lap, lips connecting in a heated and passionate kiss, hands tangling into the others hair, pulling, scratching.
Benoit is quick to take things further, as his lips find Jud’s neck, kissing it softly, while licking and biting the spot right above his tattoo. Jud moans loudly every time he bites the soft skin, hands squeezing the detective's arms, in an attempt to keep himself from losing track with reality. Blanc is heaven and Jud feels like, like he is ascending.
„B-blanc…” another bite, another moan.
„Please, pl-please…” he then begs and once again, Blanc reads him like an open book, nodding against his neck and signalling that he wants to get up.
One look is enough, he takes Benoit's hand in his and pulls him upstairs. Blanc is quick to take the lead once they arrive, he pushes Jud onto the bed and crawls on top of him.
„Oh my, you’re gorgeous.” He smiles and gets to work by unbuttoning the priest shirt, leaving the collar on. He trails kisses down from his collarbone to his happy trail, biting the flesh and circling his nipples with his tongue.
Jud just lies there, grabbing the sheets, moans and gasps escaping his mouth, enjoying everything the detective is giving to him. His hands are quick to fumble with the priest’s belt, a sigh leaves his lips, making him look up.
„Are you alright, my dear?” He asks as he looks at Jud’s bruised lips from making out.
„Yes, god, better than ever.” He sighs content and makes quick work, opening the belt and pulling the others pants and boxers down enough for his cock to be free.
The tip is glossy, precum leaking out of it, begging to be touched, begging to be worshipped.
„I‘ll take care of you, Jud.“ Benoit says, Jud bites his lip. In the back of his mind he feels guilty for not doing much, but at the same time he can feel how much Blanc wants this. How bad he wants to worship the priest, making him come undone beneath him.
He pushes two fingers into Jud‘s mouth and he is quick to suck on them, tongue swirling around the digits, making content little noises while doing so. It‘s a heavenly picture and Blanc can‘t help but stare at him in awe.
The priests let‘s out a little whine as soon as Blanc removes his fingers from his mouth, but any whine is immediately turned into a breathless moan as said fingers wrap around Jud‘s leaking dick.
„Oh-oh, shit.“ he falls back, pressing his head hard into the pillow, eyes closed as Blanc strokes his dick, slow, mindful.
„B-benoit, fuck-oh god!“ he starts chanting as Benoit picks up his pace, he looks so beautiful. Beneath him, begging, pleading, moaning his name, Blanc can’t help but kiss the priest.
The kiss is not messy, not chaotic, but slow, full of emotion and passion. As Benoit pulls away, he looks into a face full of emotion. God, he loves him. He picks up the pace once again, his other hand tangling into his locks as he tugs on them, a loud moan escapes Jud and Blanc smirks.
„F-fuck, Ben, I-I‘m…“ he can’t even finish his sentence, interrupted by Blanc biting into his neck right below his Addams Apple, finger sliding over his leaking tip and he cums with a loud shout. White streaks falling into the detective‘s hand and his own stomach.
Benoit strokes him through it, while he slowly comes down from his high with heavy breaths.
That‘s when Jud breaks, tears streaming down his cheeks, sobs escaping his mouth, his breath picking up again.
„Oh, Jud, oh dear.“ Benoit says, wiping his hand on the bedsheets in an attempt to clean himself, while also wiping the priest's stomach and tugging his now soft dick back into his pants. Buttoning up his shirt again and then, looking at Jud. Without any judgment but understanding.
„No, oh no, it‘s okay.“ Jud says and wiping at his tears, while he watches Blanc taking care of him. „Sorry.“ he adds in a whisper.
Benoit nods and pulls him into his arms, carefully settling down with him on the way too small bed.
„Just…“ Jud starts as the detective rubs slow circles into his back. The touch is soothing, and his breathing steadies almost immediately. „A lot of emotion, you know?“
“I understand, Jud.” Blanc nods, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “It’s all alright. I’m here.”
They stay like that for who knows how long, wrapped around each other, kissing and whispering sweet nothings into the other’s ear.
Jud‘s mind is at peace, all the noise, all the doubts fade away until there’s nothing left but the two of them. It's just him and the detective.
No guilt, no shame. Just love.