so lonesome that i took some comfort there
i have literally been working on this every single day for a month exactly. i've never had a fic kick my ass this badly ;-;
18+ only (MDNI)
Read on AO3 here or below the cut <3
9,145 words - nsfw, fluff and smut, dom/sub, detective and sir as honorifics, implied previous abuse, but if i'm a service top and you're a service bottom then who's flying the plane?
There is something incredibly satisfying about the click of Benoit Blanc’s heeled boots against the stone floor as he crosses the body of the church. Jud has been tracking the sound from its origin in the narthex while he strolls up the length of the hall, apparently keeping to one of the far sides rather than the centre aisle. Jud wonders if he’s admiring the beautifully coloured glass as he walks, considering he could clearly hear his footsteps without the break of carpet dampening the noise. He was presently hidden in the sacristy taking inventory. It felt strange to be carrying on with any normal duties in light of everything that had happened. That was happening.
“Good mornin’ father!” Comes a cheery call from a little ways outside. Jud clips his pencil into his clipboard and leaves to follow the voice. The early morning sunlight was little match for the glow that emanates from Blanc’s face when his eyes find Jud as he slinks out of his dimly lit foxhole.
“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to wonder if I had the wrong address.” The older man chuckles.
“Hey, Blanc! Yeah, sorry, there’s so many dark little corners in this place.”
“Looks like you’d be spoiled for choice if you were searching for somewhere private.” Blanc hums in agreement. Something hot flashes up from Jud’s collar at his words, and he hastily clears his throat trying to will the heat away. He hopes Blanc doesn’t notice. He then remembers this man is a world-famous detective, and blushes harder as his steely blue eyes ever-so-quickly dart to the top of his ears before catching his gaze again.
"Y-yeah. Um, it was a mercy during the whole, ahh, investigation. When I just needed some solitude. To pray.” This was sort of the truth. For the first few days, he found little peace within the walls of the church itself, rather ironically seeking his breath among the strong old headstones in the graveyard. The violent death that took place in that suffocating cupboard permeated throughout the physical structure like smoke from a grass fire. The air was thick and rancid with it. The rectory also offered no comfort, just as it hadn’t from the very first day he arrived to this town. While that horrible man was alive, it had felt like Jud’s prison. Actually, it felt like his home, he realised one day. The four walls entombing him in with someone slowly working to chip away at his spirit. He was once again a prisoner to somebody else’s will, and was powerless in the face of whatever he wished to do with him. No matter how awful it was. No matter how much bile it brought up whenever he found his belongings moved around in his room. No matter how much his blood turned to ice as he heard heavy drunken footsteps stalking around the wooden floorboards. No matter how much his childhood reached out and began to twist the doorknob…
Benoit tilts his head to the side, his face pinching in thought. Jud’s eyes refocus like a camera as he realises, to his complete and utter embarrassment, that he has just completely drifted off into his head. When he sees Jud coming back into the present, his features soften but the concern doesn’t fully melt away.
“You okay, son?” He drawls, head still at its curious angle.
“Yes! Yes. I’m fine. Ahh, what brings you in so early?” He answers quickly. His grip on his clipboard tightens, mortification stiffening the joints from his shoulders right down to his fingernails. Blanc’s head rights itself in an almost suspicious manner.
“I was just wondering if you’d join me for a cup of coffee this fine morning. After all that rain before, the dewdrops throughout the forest made for the most lovely walk.” He continues jovially, much to Jud’s relief.
“I would love to! I just have a few more things to check for my inventory, then I can meet you wherever you’d like.”
“Oh nonsense, I’d be happy to wait here if you’d like the company.” Jud gets the impression that this was not up for debate, so leads Blanc back to the sacristy, this time flicking on the light switch as he passes it. He tries to not hear Blanc sigh slightly as he does.
The following minutes were purgatorial. The room was usually big enough for two people with enough arm room to be dressing themselves in the sacred vestments, but it had felt so much smaller with Blanc there. He’d gently placed his overcoat over the back of a chair and hovered over Jud’s shoulder, observing him as he wrote about candles or something. As he worked, the two of them maintained some thin conversation, the topic of which Jud’s not sure he could have recalled even while he was taking part in it. He was too distracted by the way he could feel Blanc’s steady breathing ghosting along his tattoo, and the warmth from his body radiating clear through his uniform shirt.
Blanc had then followed him out to the sanctuary as he took notes on the tabernacle’s contents. With every casual yet confident stride he took in Jud's shadow, a spiced amber-citrus scent invaded the priest's senses like the smoke from a campfire that lingers on your clothes and hair for hours. It continued swirling around in his mind while he struggled to count the remaining bottles of sacramental wine; all the while it's source kept watch from his vantage point kneeling behind him.
As part of his plan to entice an updated congregation, Jud had decided to start ordering those little individual servings of wine that reminded him of coffee creamer pods. As he tried to busy his mind away from the distracting presence behind him, he attempted to plot out a timeline for when he would be able to do this order. This effort, however, was largely in vain as every so often Jud would shift on his heels to find a less painful position as he crouched, and in those moments Blanc’s chest would graze against his back. The fabric of his smartly tailored jacket teased his overly-aware skin, leaving a feeling reminiscent of how a sparkler looks when it’s alight. If he had been able to think in those brief seconds, perhaps he would have likened his sanity to a communion wafer. Thin, and breakable with just a little bit of pressure from a determined hand.
His head had swam as he mechanically packed away the inventory to be actioned later. At long last he was collecting his own overcoat and walking out of the wooden gates with Blanc. It had been raining lightly when Jud left the rectory this morning, and he’d enjoyed the misting that had made its way through the trees as he journeyed to the church. Now that the rain has stopped, the forest twinkles with the remnants of this downpour while the slowly-warming sunlight breaches the closely knit tree trunks.
As he practically skips down the familiar path, Jud can’t help but breathe it all in. The crystalline raindrops catch his eyes in every direction, the cool breeze contrasts the dappled rays that move with him, the fresh air tinted with the evergreen sweetness that carries none of the unpleasantness of a big city. When he reaches a particular tree that he recognises as being only a few minutes from the rectory, he turns around to talk to his neglected walking partner.
He gets a surprise when he sees Blanc watching him with the biggest grin he’s ever seen on the man. It all but drips with fondness, and Jud can’t possibly help but smile in return. He must have not crouched quite enough for a low branch that Jud is used to avoiding, as some of the dewdrops now glitter across the long strands of blonde falling about his face. He was honestly trying not to stare, but he’s not entirely sure he could help it. He finds it so important to appreciate the little moments of beauty in everyday life, and this strong, intelligent, kind man before him is a shining example. Beaming at him from ear to ear with delicate silvery raindrops dancing through his hair.
-
The smell of coffee is one of Jud’s favourites in the entire world. They had decided to stay in the rectory rather than find a cafe in town, and Jud had quickly set about brewing a pot for the two of them to share. As he carefully measures the grounds and pours in the hot water, he takes a meditative second to truly enjoy this moment. The rich chocolatey smell floats around the calm stillness of the kitchen, carrying with it the singing of a nearby northern cardinal. Once the coffee has been equally poured into two mugs, he walks out into the living room to deliver one of them to the current occupant of a thatched armchair. It had been turned to face the fireplace, so his back was to Jud. Despite this, he does not startle as Jud would have when the mug appears in his vision.
“Why thank you, son.” He smiles into the mug as Jud takes his usual breakfast spot. He’d found that if you sat on one of the benches that wrapped the living room with your back to the wall and your feet facing the fireplace, you had the perfect view out of the window. It’s his favourite place to watch the sunrise, and he feels safe tucked among the embrace of the bookshelves surrounding him on nearly all sides. Even though he's quite warm from the walk (and most definitely not the doting gaze of his companion), Jud cradles the mug in his hands for a beat before taking a sip.
"So, um, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" Jud asks, cutting through the quiet.
"Oh, well, I hadn't gotten that far just yet. I suppose just a calm day. Do a little bit of research, maybe play some of them puzzle apps. You know, to keep my mind sharp."
"Mm. Helps keep dementia away." He jokes, hiding his face behind his cup.
"Boy, you be nice to me now!" Blanc tries to sound stern, but the laughter behind it kept breaking through his tone.
"I think my plans are fairly similar. I want to write a few new sermons for mass, even if I don't exactly know when I'll give them. You're welcome to stay here today. That is, if you'd like to? I'll mostly just be reading and scribbling down notes, so won't be the most interesting day ever, but it’s pretty peaceful here and I promise I’ll be quiet-"
"You're rambling, son." Blanc cuts him off with a smirk, "Yes, I'd be delighted to hang around here today. I think it'd be interesting to see how the proverbial sausage gets made even if I'm not gonna be buying it, if you know what I mean." Jud did know what he means, but can mostly just squeak out an excited "okay" in response. It'll be so nice to have some company while he's writing, he thinks. Especially someone as well-rounded and smart. Maybe he'll rub off on him. Ah, no, um, as in his intelligence might. Like just being around him will make him smarter. The bottom of his coffee cup is suddenly very interesting, despite not actually having said any of that out loud. He feels as if Blanc can hear his thoughts sometimes. He knows God can at least, but that seems far less embarrassing right now.
-
Writing a new sermon had been a lovely idea in theory. Jud had really meant to do it, honestly. But in practice, he was just staring between a notebook with three pages fully scribbled out from at least 5 false starts, and a study bible open next to it open to 2nd Corinthians.
For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong.
Jud sighs and rubs his eyes in tired annoyance.
For when I am weak, then I am strong.
How long must he be weak before he is strong? He feels like he has been waiting all his life. Even since coming back to Him, Jud has been doing nothing but making mistake after mistake. He has endured, and even caused, weaknesses and hardships and calamities. When is it his turn to be strong? How can he possibly expect anyone to take his words seriously when he can't even move past the semicolon? The distinct and familiar urge to throw his pen, or even his bible, across the room zaps down his arm, but dies off on its way back up to his brain.
His pen hovers over his notebook again, about to make contact. The thin blue lines on the paper start to wobble and distort between his lashes. Someone's voice booms out within his head for every tear that escapes and runs down his face. The voice is disappointed in him. The voice knows how stupid and sad and sick he is. The voice is never ever going away. He buries his face in his wrists, trying to hide the evidence of his emotions in the thick black fabric that clings to him and threatens to suffocate.
He sniffs as quietly as he can and looks up. Still on the thatched armchair that’s now been relocated to inside of his office, Blanc is engrossed in what seems to be a conversation he's having on his iPad. He's typing on the on-screen keyboard, pointer finger typing one letter at a time. A cigar burns softly between his lips. Jud smiles in spite of himself. In less than a week, he has become so endeared to this brilliant man in a way that feels vaguely akin to a dumb little puppy. He's not sure he could ever repay the debt he feels to him, no matter how much he tries. His thoughts briefly flick to the Apple, tucked safely away inside a nearly-empty box of communion wafers for the time. Blanc laughs to himself and the hearty sound brings Jud back into the moment with it. He looks up at Jud, possibly to tell him what made him laugh, and looks pleasantly surprised to be greeted with hazel rather than the dark crown of his head.
"How goes the writing, Father?" He asks, taking his cigar out of his mouth.
Jud looks back down, as if he expects there to be writing that snuck itself onto there while he wasn't looking. He then promptly closes his notebook with a firm 'snap'.
"It's just not clicking, I'm afraid. I just can't think of a topic that feels right."
"Sounds like you got yourself a case of writer's block there."
"I think so. Hey, can I ask you a question? Don’t feel pressured to answer it."
"By all means, son." He moves his tablet off of his lap onto a nearby surface, followed by his reading glasses before leaning forward. The movement kicks up that incense-tinted citrus scent again, even through the tobacco smoke. Jud's breath speeds up ever so slightly at how clearly quite intrigued Blanc is by whatever this question will be.
"If you were going to write a sermon, what would the topic be?"
"Hmm. That is a good question." His head tilts back thoughtfully, but his elbows stay planted on his knees.
"I know you and religion aren't exactly the best of friends, so you don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable."
"No, no, it's alright. Anything I would write would be very different to what I was told all my life. Same goes for anything I'd suggest you write. Let me think now... You know what I was thinking about this morning?" Jud shakes his head, "How absolutely stunning that walk back from the church was. What with the dewdrops and the sunlight and everything, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of it all. Felt like Heaven on Earth to me."
"All things bright and beautiful?"
"Them's the ones, Father. All of God's creatures." His eyes seem to focus even more on Jud as he speaks, if that were even possible. He feels that familiar warmth dusting across his face and the muscles of his mouth twitching even more upwards without orders.
"That could be a nice one to start with. Plenty to talk about there, and relatable to everyone. Thank you, Blanc."
"Always happy to be of service to you, son." He says in a rather final tone, but his body language doesn't change at all. Even as Jud starts flicking through his bible for a quote he is half-remembering, he can still see Blanc observing him above the leather-bound edges. He raises his head slightly to meet his eyeline, and it's like looking up at Medusa. Blanc's gaze pierces through him, freezing him in place immediately, never to return to flesh and blood again. Smoke dragonically billows from his mouth from a cigar puff he never saw him take. The usual warmth in his blue eyes has hardened into something almost fierce. This nameless emotion flickers intensely behind his brow and bores itself into Jud.
If he wasn't totally kidding himself, Jud would be able to admit he knows exactly what this look means. But he doesn't. He doesn't even consciously think any of this.
In either a few seconds or hours, Blanc clears his throat, breaking the spell he'd cast between the two. He returns his thick tortoiseshell glasses to his face, smiles back at Jud once again in his usual jovial way, before typing in his tablet’s password with his pointer finger, one number at a time.
It's a little while before Jud even blinks again. He tries to focus back into his book, but the flurry of the pages seems to only match the flurry of thoughts inside of his head. He can feel his heartbeat radiating to his fingertips as he flicks through chapters of paper so thin it's almost translucent. He vaguely worries that if he were to hold a page between his fingers right now, the sweat he's currently generating would erode a hole clean through.
-
When Jud raises his head again, his neck yells at him with the ache of being in the same position for too long. The room is still bright, but the shadows have noticeably moved. Jud stretches out his shoulders and back, and prays that the uncomfortable clicking in his neck isn't going to have lasting damage.
"If you had any ink left in that pen, I would be damned surprised." Comes Benoit's drawl from behind Jud's eyes that have clenched unconsciously with his stretch. He's still in the chair he was in before, except now his suit jacket has been shed and his shirtsleeves have been perfectly folded up. Like an Abercrombie & Fitch model, Jud distantly thinks. And then he realises he's now staring at Blanc's exposed forearms and hastily brings his eyes up to re-establish normal human behaviour. By some miracle Blanc hasn't looked up from his tablet so didn't notice any of this. Even still, Jud's mind wanders before coming up with a verbal reply.
"Uhh, yeah, haha. That's the real miracle here." Is what he finally says when he tunes back in. Normal. Human. Behaviour. Don't be weird, he internally chastises himself. Blanc brings his head up to consider him through his reading glasses. Jud raises his notebook as flicks through the six-and-a-half pages he was able to get through as proof of his work.
“Good boy.” He nods approvingly, taking off his glasses but not looking away from Jud. Still watching him. Observing closely as his face flushes wildly and he drops his notebook the foot or so back down onto his desk. He can feel burning-hot blood filling out every crevice of his face and ears in an instant before creeping down his neck like vines. He coughs harshly before he has the nerve to even look up at Blanc’s brown patterned tie, let alone his face. He chuckles deeply at the effect he’s obviously aware he has on the younger man. “Come out from behind that desk a while. You’ve more than earned a break, I’m sure.”
“No arguments here. I, ah, think I’ve started to rust into that posture.” Jud forces out as he shuffles out from behind the slightly-overcrowded desk. A strong, caring hand finds the base of his spine and its owner starts guiding him back out into the living room. Jud all but collapses down onto one of the couches as directed by the hand, taking up as much of its space as he can as he tries to stretch until he feels a normal amount of space returns between each of his ribs again. Benoit takes up the opposite couch, swinging his feet up onto it as he leans back into one of the fringed arms and sighs contentedly. From where he’s sitting, he has quite the view of Jud’s black-clad torso laid out before him with his long arms akimbo. The loose fit of the shirt gives away little about what's beneath, but as the priest arches into the plush brown beneath him, it begins to pull a little at his waist and unravels just enough for Benoit to catch a glimpse of lily-white.
Once he's satisfied with the recalibration of his joints, Jud yawns out his earlier stress and closes his eyes. His hands knit themselves comfortably together over his stomach and his legs gracefully cross themselves at the shins. A rogue curl falls across his pale forehead as he relaxes further into one of the velvet-clad pillows. Benoit watches it take its path.
They both sit there for a while, enjoying the peaceful stillness of the late afternoon in a lovely mirror of how the priest had enjoyed the peaceful stillness of the early morning. Deep down, he knows that he finds life so much easier with Blanc around. Even deeper still, he knows that he hasn’t felt so safe with someone in a very long time. He doesn’t have to worry when Blanc’s around. If there was something wrong then he would have noticed already, he doesn’t have to be on constant high alert. He can stop and smell the roses. Or the cup of coffee, or the dewdrops, or the forest air, or whatever else he damn well pleases. He can lie on a couch in a shared room with his eyes closed and his hands clasped. He’s always safe with Blanc.
His eyes flutter back open and he tilts his head to face Blanc until he's staring directly into icy blue. Compared to the cozy warmth of the room, they seem to luminesce with their cool, captivating brightness. The silence between them is comfortable as they both take in each other's features. The moment he becomes aware of what's happening though, Jud feels his stomach turn over. He's never felt this strongly about anyone before, like he swears he can actually feel his heart doing something silly as he lies there, draped out before Blanc like the cloth upon the altar. He knows now. He finally sees it for what it is. He feels a little stupid that he hadn't let himself see it until now. It's so fucking obvious. Oh, God. Ohhhhh, man.
"You alright?" Blanc's voice reverberated right through his bones like the first few notes of the church's organ. Jud nodded back, not fully convinced that any sound would come out even if he tried. "Tell me what's on your mind."
Jud's not even sure what he was attempting to say, but whatever it was came out completely mangled. There was suddenly a faint high-pitched ringing coming from somewhere inside of his head.
"Deep breath. Talk to me, son." Came Blanc's even voice from above him. He's sat up and is now facing Jud with his hands resting on the couch. Well, no, not resting. Upon closer inspection, his knuckles are beginning to turn white with the force he's gripping the edge of the cushion with.
Without hesitation, Jud takes a deep breath. He tries to make eye contact again, but he feels a tsunami of shame forcing him to divert his eyes. To disguise this, he sits up so now he and Blanc are facing each other. If either of them moved an inch, their knees would almost certainly touch.
"I can't. I'm sorry."
"There is nothing you can say that's gonna scare me off, son. Let me in."
Jud takes another breath, albeit a much shakier one. This one crackles painfully in his lungs. All the while his head swoops with the longing to be honest counterbalanced by the cold dread of what might happen if he is. Just as he thinks he might disobey an order for the first time, the walls he's built up come tumbling down, releasing the flood hiding behind them.
"I'm so sorry. I think I'm… I-I have feelings for you. You came into my life just when I needed you most. You literally answered my prayers, I was praying for help or guidance or a path or anything. And then you arrived. You reached into the darkness of my despair and pulled me out into the light again. And you didn't just do it with kindness, but with calmness and firmness. You make me feel so safe, I know I can count on you for anything. I have come to admire you so much in such a short amount of time. I know I can never repay the debt I have to you. But I want to try. I would try for as long as you let me. Fuck, oh fuck, this is so inappropriate. I'm so sorry. I'm so sor-" He attempts to apologise for a fourth time, but he's completely winded already so what Blanc actually hears is more of a wheezing gasp.
Could a shirt collar turn into a snake somehow? The serpent from the Garden twisting around his neck, choking him until the edges of his vision dims and vignettes Blanc's immaculately shined boots. He wishes it would have done it sooner and prevented him from saying anything at all. He tries to distract himself with the flexing and unflexing of his fists tightly at his pant legs, reground and regroup, but a blinding wave of panic takes over him. In an action somewhere between survival instinct and desperation, Jud's fingers wrap around the serpent and rip it from his neck. It falls to the ground, into the spotlight in his vision and lands next to Blanc's foot. He can't determine his exact expression, but he can see in his peripheral vision that Blanc's eyes are trained on the piece of white plastic lying quietly on the rug. A thick silence gathers in the air like a raincloud, except somehow it feels as if it's steady downpour is beginning to wash away Jud's guilt and shame.
"What the hell are you sorry for?" Benoit murmurs through what sounds like a lump in his throat. The surprise at both his words and his delivery thereof jolts Jud right out of his train of thoughts.
"Um… W-well, we've only known each other for uh… five? days. So it just, you know," He can hear in his mind what he was going to say. 'It's not right'. Could almost hear himself saying it. But as he spoke, he finally gained the courage to look back at Blanc and it's like someone pressed his mute button. Benoit's face was alight with some urgent emotion, his fair hair falling across his forehead in a way that only exacerbates his expression. He was now so far forward on the couch that it looks like he's holding onto the couch out of sheer necessity.
Jud, despite everything, feels a smile cross his face at the sight of him. He could then practically hear the 'crack' as Benoit's resolve finally fractures.
He feels him move before he registers it with a single other sense. The vibrant shock as his knees brush past his own, then the heat of his hand as it grips his knee, then the other hand that plants itself on the side of his head and holds firm, then finally his soft lips finding his own.
He kisses back like Blanc is his only source of oxygen and lets it burn his lungs as he quickly runs out. His arms clumsily wrap around the older man's neck, frantically trying to hold him as close as he can. Jud notices how viciously light-headed he feels. Whether that's due to the fact he hasn't taken a proper breath in far too long or from the kiss that is radiating a thrilling warmth all over his earthly body, he's not sure.
Blanc pulls away for some air, and takes the chance to see the effect he's had. Jud is panting heavily, a dazed and dizzy smile smeared lopsidedly across his face and flushed a deep crimson. The hand that holds his face over by his ear moves to cup his cheek, and Benoit can feel the skin there burning beneath his touch. In what he guesses is an unconscious motion, Jud leans into his hand and sighs, his eyes seemingly threatening to flicker shut. The arms encircling Benoit's neck loosen almost to the point of falling off of his broad shoulders.
Benoit slowly slides his hand upwards into Jud's hair and watches his head subtly follow the movement. Benoit hums curiously, and before Jud has time to wonder what this means he feels the hand closing around a section of curls. He gasps, and with this gasp Benoit tugs lightly, testing the waters. If the small squeak is anything to go by, he suspects that this gesture was well-received. He meets Jud's hazel eyes under his long dark lashes and stares deeply into them as he tugs again, harder this time. A moan is pulled out from between his swollen lips. The hazel vanishes completely when Jud finally loses the battle with keeping his eyes open; instead scrunching closed with the sensation tingling sharply across his scalp.
"There you go. That's the way." Benoit's voice soothes the ache left behind by his hand as it works its way deep into his brain. His other hand moves slowly up his thigh, still holding firmly as if this point of contact is the only thing keeping Jud upright. Maybe it is.
"Please." Jud exhales softly, not entirely sure what he's asking for, "Please, Blanc."
The hand on his thigh stops just shy of the junction of his hip, but before he can complain Benoit's hand in his hair is pulling once again. This time, he uses this leverage to tilt his head back enough to expose the aging ink marked into the side of his neck. Jud whimpers with the action, which gives way to a high-pitched moan when Benoit bites down on the tattoo. Good God this boy is going to be the death of him, he thinks. His arms close back around Benoit's neck, keeping him nuzzled in at the top of his collar as he bites and sucks at his neck in a near-frenzy. When he's satisfied that he will have left a purple tint over the entirety of the tattoo, Benoit works his way back up to his lips. This time he leaves a series of softer kisses in his wake, taking his time. In the meantime, his lower hand darts around to the outside of Jud's hip, tracing up to his waist and pulling the younger man closer to him. He can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against his own.
"For the record," Benoit pauses for a second to make sure Jud's staring directly into his eyes as he speaks. "The feeling is very, very mutual." The dopey grin from before plasters itself back onto the younger man's face.
"Really?" He breathlessly asks, hope etched so deep into his face that it glows with it.
"Just look at you. So perfect. So beautiful." Benoit sighs. He lets both of his hands wander across Jud's torso as he speaks lowly. As his hands begin to fiddle with the shiny buttons on his shirt, he looks back up to his face. "Is this okay?"
Jud nods quickly, but receives a chastising tongue click in return.
"Uh-uh, son. Use your words, now."
"Y-yes, please, more than okay, please."
"Good boy." Jud shivers uncontrollably at the words and the older man chuckles deeply, the sound reminding him of a powerful earthquake. "I've noticed you seem to like that. You like doing what I ask, and you like hearing how happy that makes me. Such a sweet boy. Sometimes you just need some reminding though, huh? Need me to tell you what to do and put you back in your place."
By now, he's worked open the last button and has pushed aside the dark fabric. He's dangerously close to growling as he runs his eyes over the newly exposed skin, taking in as much of Jud's pale form as he can reach. Jud moans at his words, not only at how filthy they are but at how closely Blanc must have been observing him. Watching for every little twitch and hum at his funny little phrases, or at the strength of his hands directing him into rooms and out of buildings and into his car. Into the backseat. Oh, God. Jud's so fucking hard right now it hurts. He doesn't have it in him to be embarrassed right now.
"You're being so good for me right now. Gonna keep let me do whatever I want with you, darling?"
"Mhmm." Jud's lips are pressed tightly together as he tries to hold it together under Blanc's large and strong hands caressing his very sensitive skin.
"Oh come on, baby, you can do better than that." The soft pad of his thumb brushes ever-so-gently against one of Jud's nipples.
"Yes! Yes, please, I wanna be good for you, sir." He exhales sharply. Benoit groans deeply at the honorific.
"Say that again." His eyes burn into Jud with an overpowering lust.
"Please, sir. I'll be so good for you." Blanc buries his face back into his neck, roughly biting wherever he can reach. Jud can feel him groaning rather than hear it now, which continues as he finds his way down to his collarbone and starts working along his shoulders. Jud's head falls back as he struggles to stay present in the moment, a pleasant fogginess in his head beginning to cloud his thoughts.
One thought shines through, however. Clear as a church bell.
The next time that Blanc detaches from his skin, Jud drops to his knees and works his way into the gap between his thick thighs. He gazes up at the older man, hoping that the longing in his eyes will convey what he's asking for.
"Well, now, what's this? I thought you were gonna let me do what I wanted?"
"Do it, do whatever you want, sir, use me, please." He nuzzles his head into the expensive fabric encasing Blanc's leg, trying very hard to not feel ashamed by the fact that he is currently on the ground in the damn rectory, whining and begging for his friend to fuck his mouth.
"You're so perfect, pretty boy. I think I can forgive you this time for not following my instructions." One hand finds its way back into Jud's hair, petting the soft curls beneath his fingers. "Next time though, I mightn't be so easy on you." He says while he starts undoing the buckle of his belt. Jud's eyes fall from his darkening face to the unravelling layers of his trousers, his hands clasping themselves in his lap as he waits. Blanc notices. Of course he does. The look he gets in his eyes when he notices, however, is something else. Predatory in a way. Like a starving lion.
He soon frees himself from his pants, and he fastens his grip on Jud's hair again. He pulls hard, forcing Jud up until he's up on his knees, rather than sitting back on his heels. He steadies himself by bracing his hands on Blanc's thighs. Fuck, he can feel how strong they are through the exquisite vintage material. Everything is too much in a perfect way that has Jud's head spinning.
"How're you going down there?" Blanc is stroking himself in quite the unhurried manner. Jud thinks he might die if he doesn't touch him soon.
"Please, may I…?" Jud's voice trails off.
"May you what?" Blanc holds his length at its base, angling it ever so slightly at Jud, who simply whines as a response. A hand is suddenly gripping his chin with enough strength to hurt a little, forcing him to look Blanc in the eyes. "I can't give you what you want unless you tell me, darling. I need you to tell me. Need you to beg for me." Both men's grasps tighten on each other with the excitement of anticipation.
"Please may I, um… Sir, m-may I suck your dick?" He forces himself to stammer out, averting his eyes away from Benoit's fire-starting blue stare.
"That's better. Such good manners, too. Yes, you may."
"Thank you, Detective." He leans forward to kiss at Blanc's knuckles wrapped out the length. Benoit barely notices as he has to direct all of his focus into not grabbing his head and forcing himself in to the hilt. Detective. The title has never sounded so right in his life.
The satisfaction Jud feels in this moment at finally being the one to fluster the other with his words is unparalleled by any smugness he's ever allowed himself to have before. He surges forward on the wings of a newfound confidence and takes the glistening head into his mouth.
"Fuck!" Benoit grunts above him. Both of his hands find themselves in the mess of dark curls in his lap as Jud begins to gently bob his head. "Mmm, just like that, boy, feels so good." He uses his hands to gently guide Jud's head in its movement, astutely aware that if he doesn't actively hold back then he'll end up pushing his head down beyond his comfort levels. Benoit files that idea away for later. Just then, Jud pulls off to lick at the head a few times before taking it back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
"Shit, darling, where did you learn how to do that?" Blanc says a little breathlessly. His thighs are fully tensed, apparently no longer able to relax at the sight and sensations of Jud on his knees before him. All for him. Jud begins to slowly trail his fingers up and across his thighs. He bobs his head further and further down as tears begin to well up in the corners of his eyes. For every little bit of pressure on his scalp, he speeds up his ministration. On one particularly deep motion, Benoit's cock hits the back of Jud's throat, making him gag just enough for him to pull all the way off. Panting to regain his breath, he stares up at Benoit. He can feel the tears on his cheeks working to finally cool down his face.
Blanc's wearing a similarly adoration-filled expression to the one he was on the receiving end of earlier, yet magnified infinitely somehow. Amazement and lust glow at its edges now, all of it working its way up from under his sun-kissed skin. Without breaking eye contact, Jud brings one of his hands across to stroke his cock in absence of his mouth. Blanc groans loudly and lets his head fall forwards with the sound. His hold on Jud's hair loosens, one hand dropping to meet just Jud's face. His thumb begins to move on a gentle path back-and-forth over the tiny freckle stamped just under his eye.
"Am I doing okay?" Jud whispers far more hoarsely than he was expecting.
"You're doing such a good job, darling. Making me feel so good."
"Thank you, sir." Jud suddenly becomes aware of how heavily he's starting to lean into Blanc's touch. He doesn't get time to be self-conscious about it before Blanc speaks again.
"I want to fuck you so bad. Will you let me do that?" Jud's nodding before he's even finished the question.
"Yes please."
"Good. I believe we oughta relocate. I'm gonna need a little more room than either of these couches can allow, and I'm too old these days to be fooling around on the floor." He haphazardly shoves himself back into his trousers as he speaks, then stands. Jud doesn't follow immediately, instead stays kneeling at Blanc's feet. It's not until Benoit laughs darkly and says "Have I trained you so well already, puppy?" that his brain finally catches up and he bounces up to stand. He lets Blanc lead him up the old wooden staircase with a firm hold around his arm, musing to himself about the metaphorical representation of priest collars.
When they reach his little room on the third floor, Blanc manoeuvres him back onto the floor in front of him. He looks down and smiles at Jud.
"Didn't wanna miss out on enjoying this sight properly." Jud whines high in this throat. He shuffles forward on his knees the few inches it takes to close the gap between them. With his best pleading eyes boring right into familiar blue, Jud rests his face on Blanc's hip. The older man ruffles through his hair, bordering on petting him. "Don't worry, baby. I won't make you wait much longer, just wanna look at you for a little while." Jud sighs prettily and wraps his arms around one of his strong thighs. Benoit subtly shifts his weight primarily to his left leg so he can bend his other leg up to support Jud's weight more. He's fully petting Jud's hair and face now, relishing in watching the younger man's eyes glaze over. "Enjoying yourself, honey?" He can't help but smirk. Jud nods airily up at him.
"Yes sir."
"I'm glad. Come on now, up you hop. I think you deserve a little somethin' for being so patient." Blanc extends a hand down to Jud, who automatically takes it. As Jud gets pulled to his feet, he wobbles a bit and is conveniently caught by Blanc's lips again. Jud's pretty sure he can feel himself being moved backwards, but he's completely caught up in the kiss. The feeling of Blanc's hands groping anywhere they'll reach is interrupted by the feeling of his bed hitting the back of his knees. Jud falls back onto his bed, leaving him staring up at Blanc who stands looming above him.
"Take off your clothes and sit up against the pillows." Jud obediently peels off his still-open shirt and awkwardly shuffles out of his pants. He's hindered slightly by the fact he's sitting, and even more still when he realises he's still wearing his shoes. Finally, he successfully takes off the last of his layers and abandons them on the floor. Something catches Blanc's eye as he starts unbuttoning his own shirt; a rosary has half-spilled out of Jud's pants pocket and is reflecting the late afternoon sunlight coming in through the window. He looks up and notices that Jud is reflecting the late afternoon sunlight too in his own way between his persistent blush and his golden smile.
"Can I just say, you really do look so beautiful. You are so beautiful." Blanc smiles as he moves to lean on the bed. Real tears sting at Jud's eyes as he bashfully looks away. Blanc appears back in his vision, having ducked down to capture his lips again. This kiss is tender, loving. All of the emotions built up over the last few days seems to be spilling out into it. Jud grasps the sides of Blanc's face tightly, feeling both the soft strands of his hair and the shorter stubble covering the lower half of his face. He begins to relax into the pillows behind him, pulling Blanc down with him until he is mostly lying on top of him. Benoit snakes his hand down between them to finally touch his long-neglected cock. Jud whines into his open mouth when he does, even though Blanc's only brushing his hot skin with his fingertips.
"Please, please!"
"Tell me what you want, baby." He whispered directly into his ear, his voice lower than Jud's ever heard it.
"Anything, whatever, please."
"Nope. I can't work with that, and you damn well know better now." He bites down hard on his ear lobe to punctuate his sentence.
"Ah!! Um, ahh… Shit! Please, please fuck me. Please, detective." He pants out, thoroughly distracted by the warm fingertips grazing his dick more insistently now.
"Good boy." Blanc whispers, kissing the shell of his outer ear. "Do you have any uhh… lubricating materials around?" A shy look crosses Jud's face despite everything.
"N-not really. I, um, have some hand cream in the side table?" He tries to look over at the side table as he talks, but Blanc's head, still mostly attached to his ear, impedes his view. Instead, Blanc feels blindly around until he produces a small tub labelled 'Shea Butter', which he examines. Jud does not tease him about the way he has to squint at the writing as this does not strike him as the best idea right now.
"This will work just fine." He scoops a little out onto his hand and places the jar aside. Making sure to keep as close of an eye on him as he can, Blanc finally wraps his hand around Jud's cock, which is now bright red and harder than he's ever been in memory. He throws his head back into the pillows when he feels the contact, and sinks even further into them when he begins an easy rhythm stroking him up and down. His hands grapple for anything he can grab onto to ground himself, trying the sheets, his pillows, and his bed frame. Benoit sits back on his knees and uses his now-free hand to grope at the pale skin of his thighs. The muscles there twitch so responsively, both at his touch and at the pleasure radiating from his core. After a little while, Blanc removes his hand, much to Jud's audible dismay.
"Oh there, there." He tuts in a tone that Jud can't place between sympathetic and mocking. He doesn't get to think about it for long though, as he soon feels a freshly-lubed finger at his entrance. His breath speeds up in anticipation and he can distantly hear his voice begging. As it breaches, his back arches of its own volition into Blanc's touch. His other hand presses firmly down on his hip, pushing him back into the mattress.
"Well ain't you just the prettiest sight? So responsive to just one finger. And look how small you look under me, baby boy, my hand looks so big pressing on you like that."
"Ohhhh, please, detective. Sir, I'm n-not gonna last long. Please, just, ahh, please-" Jud frantically moans, almost panicked.
"I gotta warm you up first, darling."
"Hurry up, it already feels so, ahh, so much!"
"All in good time, sweetheart. There's no rush."
"Maybe not for you…" Jud keens, arching even more despite the hand's strength against his hip. Despite his words, Benoit does begin to stretch him open with a little more urgency. Soon enough, he's up to a few fingers and feels satisfied that he wouldn't be accidentally hurting his partner. Jud thinks he's going to fucking die any minute now. He's squirming so much that one of the blankets has completely fallen off the bed, and his dick is so hard it's beginning to turn purplish at the tip.
"You've been such a good boy, so patient for me. Are you ready, my darling?" Blanc leans down to kiss the younger man's nose as he speaks. All the while, Jud can feel him lining himself up with his entrance.
"Yes detective, please. Please, please fuck me already…" A long, feminine moan tumbles out as Benoit pushes in. He's moving so slowly Jud can actually feel himself going insane. Finally, he's in up to the hilt and Blanc groans loudly, dropping his head onto Jud's shoulder.
"Fuck, sweetheart. You're so fucking tight. I dunno if I'll be able to last long either."
"I don't care, please, I'm, holy shit-" He's moaning more than he's talking, completely unable to help himself.
"I'm gonna move now, okay?" Jud only nods, open-mouthed. "Jud…" Blanc grabs his face harshly and forces him to look directly into his eyes. There's a wildness set deep within them that contrasts the sternness written across the rest of his features. "That's not very good of you. I've told you several times now, I need you to speak to me. Is that really so hard for you already? You're already so fucking cock drunk and I haven't even started moving yet? Hmm? Tell me, baby. I'm just making you feel that good already, huh?"
Jud's now panting pretty heavily considering neither of them are moving. He nods the best he can with his jaw being held, a long whine escaping his still-open mouth. Blanc's eyes harden, as does the grip on Jud's face.
"Yesh shir. Sho good." He's able to get out despite the obvious difficulty moving his mouth to talk. Blanc hums as if he's not convinced, but begins to roll his hips regardless. Jud's eyes very quickly flutter shut in response, and the older man lets go of his jaw. This was apparently all that was keeping him in place, as his back arches up and into Blanc's strong chest as he starts fucking him in earnest.
"Oh shit, oh fuck, please detective." Jud begins to babble, reaching up to hold onto Blanc. His hand finds his wrist up near his shoulder, and he can feel the small silver chain he's wearing under his palm. Jud's right arm wraps desperately around Blanc's neck and shoulders.
"I got you, baby boy. There you go." He pauses for a second, just long enough to use his left hand to grab under Jud's knee and push it diagonally out and up. The younger man wails with the change of angle and Blanc's head cocks mischievously to the side.
"Oh? That the right spot, darling?" He gives a few short, quick strokes, testing the area. If the violent shaking of Jud's entire body was anything to go by, he'd wager he's hitting his prostate fairly dead-on. "Hmm. Yeah, it is."
He picks the pace back up, hitting the same spot with as much accuracy as he can manage. The priest below him is fully incoherent now, slurring moans flowing out of him nearly constantly now. Suddenly, they begin to pitch higher and Blanc feels his hand grabbing at his long locks at the nape of his neck. His hazel eyes fly back open and look up at him like he's the only thing in the universe.
"B-Blanc. Please." He whispers.
"You can cum, sweet boy. I got you, let me take care of you." He murmurs back, moving his hand from the back of his knee to stroke his cock in time with his thrusts.
"Ah! B-Blanc!" Jud cries out, back arching so high off the bed it has to hurt. Blanc keeps fucking him through his orgasm, until he's left panting and squirming under him. He slows to a stop and kisses him.
"How're you feeling, darling?"
"F-fucking amazing." He sighs dreamily.
"I'm glad. Will you be okay if I keep fucking you, baby? I don't wanna hurt you now, but if you let me, I want to keep on fucking you until you're all full up and dripping with me."
"Oh shit!" He whines girlishly. "Yeah, detective, do it, please."
"As you wish, baby. Just you tell me if you want me to stop at any time, okay?'
"Okay." With that, Blanc picks up the pace again. This time though, it's so hard and fast that it has Jud's eyes rolling into the back of his head. His hand tightens even more around Blanc's wrist, and he's dimly aware that the pattern of his bracelet will be imprinted in his palm for a long time afterwards.
Jud hadn't noticed that Blanc's free hand had crept back under his knee until he felt his leg getting pushed up again. He relinquishes Blanc's other hand, which quickly finds his right knee. With every hard thrust, Jud's knees are pushed closer and closer to his torso until they meet the mattress above his shoulders. He wedges his hands between the mattress and the solid bed frame for any kind of leverage. All of his senses are flooded with Benoit, all of his nerves are completely alight with pleasure. He hardly notices when he cums all over his own stomach for a second time.
Benoit closely follows, a few more firm strokes and he buries himself deep inside of Jud and comes with a loud shout. He stays there for a beat to catch his breath before lowering Jud back into a horizontal position. Slowly, though, so he doesn't run more of a risk of hurting the taller man beneath him. Who is currently staring up at him like he hung the moon. Even though his own back is aching and he's still trying to catch his breath, Benoit leans down and softly kisses Jud on the forehead. He lets his lips linger there for longer than strictly necessary, and Jud whines nearly inaudibly in response.
"Hi there." Blanc says quietly once he pulls back. Jud responds with a sleepy and dazed smile. Blanc chuckles and brings a hand up to cradle his face. "You doing okay, darling?"
Now long past vocalisation, Jud nods as he leans into Blanc's warm hand. Benoit's thumb once again finds the guiding star amongst the constellation of freckles that dust the younger man's face and brushes across it gently. Jud's eyes close tiredly and he whines happily.
In the morning, Blanc will tell Jud how much he loves him. He'll make Jud the best cup of coffee he can and take his scarred hands into his own and never, ever let them go.
For tonight though, he'll settle for cleaning them both up with a caring hand and holding Jud tightly against his chest while he sleeps.
For the first time in a very long time, Jud has no nightmares.
