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After his first mass, Jud rode his bike forty-five minutes to the neighbouring town with the sole intention of purchasing one single celebratory beer.
The weather that evening was surprisingly warm, sunlight falling in specks across the road as Jud peddled. He liked the feelings of his lungs pumping air – open, close, open, close – like a pair of fists clenching and unclenching. He felt sweat running down his forehead, running down his back. He tried to think of very little. He tried to think of nothing at all, actually. He just concentrated on his body and how it felt, and let the distance between him and Chimney Rock grow thinner and thinner, like the wisps of clouds that streaked the sky.
In Kendale he picked the first restaurant he saw, leaving his bike against a low fence next door. The restaurant was cozy, the walls painted pale yellow and the last of the evening light bouncing off the long mahogany bar. It wasn’t busy; Jud craned his neck to check for empty booths and found only one of them occupied. He moved to sit but stopped suddenly. Hanging from the seat of the occupied booth was a very familiar coat sleeve. The man at the booth had his head down, straw-blond hair nearly touching the table top. Jud walked closer, not daring to get his hopes up too high. “Blanc?”
The man raised his head from a notebook. His eyes went wide, surprised, then decidedly pleased. “Father Jud,” Blanc said. “What an intriguing development.”
“Hi.” Jud stepped closer, feeling his face break into a smile. He quickly assessed the state of Blanc’s table: papers blanketing the surface, discarded plates streaked with jam, at least three coffee cups. Blanc had clearly been here a while. “I thought you were gone.”
“I am – well, I was. I was on my way out of town when I was suddenly struck by an urge to…” he blinked down at the state of his table, as if awakening from a dream. “Uh… anyway.” He looked up at Jud. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
Jud tugged at his fraying sweater sleeves. He really had not expected to see anyone he knew, least of all Benoit Blanc. “I think I just wanted a change of scenery. There’s like, three bars in Chimney Rock and most people in each hate me.” He gestured to Blanc’s papers. “You seem busy, I can…”
“No, join me, please, please.” Blanc started clearing the table as Jud gratefully slid into the booth. A waitress approached. Seeing her, Blanc held up both palms beside his head like don’t shoot.
“See, Carolyn?” Blanc said, “I have a guest now, so you can’t kick me out just yet.”
She smirked and shook her head, clearly charmed. To Jud, she asked, “What can I get ya?”
“Just the lager, please,” Jud said.
“Father Jud,” Blanc said, “you are going to order a bona fide solid meal right this instant. You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat? He’ll have a burger, please, Carolyn.”
“Veggie burger, please,” Jud said. He turned back to Blanc. “I’m vegetarian.”
“Course you are.”
Blanc shuffled more of his papers away as Carolyn left. Jud folded his hands in his lap and cocked his head at the mess on the table. “Are you working on another case?”
“No, uh. This is more of a passion project.”
“Oh, cool.” On a piece of looseleaf he saw Blanc’s intricate scrawl in dark blue ink. “What’s the project? Why is it passionate?”
Blanc pushed his hands up under his glasses to rub his face. His movements were loosened by either fatigue or alcohol, and Jud couldn't deny that he was enjoying seeing this side of him. The detective’s cheeks were flushed, his suspenders slackened, his hair standing up pointedly in multiple directions. It was, Jud had to admit, very endearing.
“I have it in my mind,” Blanc said from under his hands, “that I am going to write a book.” He took his glasses off, folded them, and set them on the table neatly. “I have no idea why. I don’t particularly enjoy writing. It’s just a, a calling I suppose.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jud said, thinking he’d very much like to read anything Blanc wrote. He strained to read some scribbles on the corner of a napkin, but Blanc swept it away. “Is it about you? Your work?”
Blanc scrunched his face up briefly in embarrassment. “Yes, so as I’m sure you can imagine I’m quite sick of myself at the moment.” He finished tidying his papers and planted both elbows on the table, directing his full attention at Jud. “Now. How was your first service?”
The first service had, in fact, been wonderful, if not slightly anticlimactic. Based on the shitfires that had been raging online, Jud had expected more shouting, more protesting, perhaps a rock or two thrown in his direction. But none of this had happened. It had been small, but it had been delightful. New faces, new people, some old regulars returning. And best of all, for the first time in months, Jud had felt completely right. He’d felt exactly where he needed to be. He’d felt whole, and presence, and bigger than himself – bigger than his body and his thoughts and his problems. As he preached, he felt himself being overcome by something much more spacious than himself. He had felt God. And as he looked out across the faces in the sunlit pews, he knew that they had felt it too. That they were sharing something very special indeed.
It had been a great first mass. Jud still felt the adrenaline, the wholeness, running golden through his veins. He told Blanc such, in less frilly language.
Blanc was smiling, crossing his arms across his chest. “That’s wonderful, Father. Really.”
“Yeah, thank you,” Jud said. He hesitated, then: “I’m sorry if I offended you, by the way. By inviting you.”
“Gosh, no. I’m sorry if I offended you by not coming.”
“I swear I’m not trying to convert you.”
Blanc let out a genuine whoop of laughter. “Son, I would honestly like to see you try.”
Jud felt his face break into a full smile. And then they were both smiling wide at each other, so brightly that they were forced to look down at the table.
Jud’s lager and veggie burger arrived, and Blanc ordered another Old Fashioned, and they talked. They talked about everything. About Cy and his anger. About the church. About mysteries. About Blanc’s favourite cases. The one with the bald businessman who got away with it by wearing a wig. The one with the little girl and the tuba case. About the bus driver in London who never changed his route. Jud listened to all these stories with wonder, amazed at how Blanc could recall small details, how he could paint intricate portraits of all the people he had met. Briefly, Jud wondered how Blanc would recount this case, what details he would remember, what he would take with him.
They talked about Blanc’s brief acting career (of which Jud was desperate to hear more, and of which Blanc was surprisingly cagey, hiding bashfully behind his glass – another day, son). They talked about musicals. They talked about the religious implications of Cats. About Jesus Christ Superstar, whether Jud had seen it (he had) and whether he thought it a faithful adaptation (he did). They talked and talked and talked. They talked until the light outside turned from beige to grey to black, until the restaurant had emptied of even its most devout regulars, until even Carolyn seemed a bit cross with them, politely informing them that they needed to leave. Blanc shook her hand exuberantly as they got up, and left a tip so big it hurt Jud’s eyes to look directly at it.
Blanc held the door open as they exited, curtseying slightly. “Father Jud,” he drawled with a flourish of his hand, and Jud understood once again why the whole entire world was utterly charmed by Detective Benoit Blanc.
Outside Jud felt like a newborn calf: unstable on his feet, pulling in deep drags of air, lifting his head to the starry sky, astonished and thrilled to be alive. Attempting to walk steadily, Jud went over to the fence and knelt to undo his bike lock.
In the open air, the silence between them amplified. Blanc stood behind Jud, his coat slung over one arm. “I cannot believe you rode that contraption here.”
“Ride it everywhere,” Jud said, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “Can’t drive.”
“Let me give you a ride back.”
“No, I’m good. I promise.” Though it was occurring to Jud that he was significantly drunker than originally anticipated. It was also dawning on him that he was going to have to say goodbye to Blanc again, for real this time, possibly forever, and this thought was suddenly vastly unthinkable. The lock fell with a clud to the pavement. Jud turned to look at Blanc over his shoulder. “Wait, you’re not driving back tonight, are you?”
“No, I uh, I figured I’d be staying another night when I got the impulse to write. Already told the hotel.”
“Where are you staying?”
Blanc slung his arm back and pointed to a huge Victorian-style house a bit further down the street. Jud could make out a wraparound porch and a big white sign declaring it Kendale’s Finest Bed & Breakfast in elaborate cursive.
Jud stood, holding his handlebars to steady himself. “Do they actually give you breakfast at those things?”
A streetlight above them twinkled in Blanc’s clear blue eyes. He assessed Jud for a long moment. Jud stood there, trying not to sway. He did not know what he wanted, but he knew what he didn’t want. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.
A corner of Blanc’s mouth quirked up. “Say, Father,” he said, “what’s your favourite colour?”
“Wow.”
Jud felt like he was having a stroke. Blanc’s entire hotel room – the walls, the carpet, the curtains, the bedspread, even the bathtub, somehow – was purple. Mauves, plums, lilacs, magentas, violets, you name it. Jud circled, taking it all in. “It’s, um. Very purple.”
Blanc tossed his coat over the top of a dark purple pleather chair in the middle of the room. “Fun, ain’t it?”
Jud noticed that the wallpaper was dotted with small hearts. “Did you ask for this room specifically?”
“I prefer to have bigger rooms when I travel, so I can, you know.” Blanc leaned back against a counter and waggled his fingers. “Pace. This was the biggest they had. Honeymoon suite. Suppose the decorators thought red or pink a bit too clichéd.”
Jud laughed in disbelief.
Blanc crossed his arms, looking to the side in amused resignation. “The irony is something to laugh at, if anything.”
Jud looked away from a glass lamp shaped like a swan. “Irony?”
Blanc turned his head back, blinking. “Oh yes, I suppose you wouldn’t… I’m just at a particularly unromantic time of my life, is all.”
“Oh.” Jud tried not to let his voice lift in interest.
“Recent divorce, you know.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Jud said earnestly. He had seen how divorces tore people apart; he briefly recalled Dr. Nat. Jud was surprised Blanc was holding it together as well as he was. But then again, Jud was constantly surprised by Blanc.
Blanc waved it away, shaking his head. “Amicable. And it’s been, uh… a while, anyway, since...” He sniffed, then decided he was done with that train of thought. He looked to Jud expectantly. “G&T?”
Jud nodded, though he didn’t particularly like gin. “Please.”
Blanc bent down to the mini fridge while Jud settled himself into one of the chairs in the middle of the room. He watched Blanc’s broad back – the crest of his shoulder, suspender tightening over muscle – as Blanc poured the drinks.
To fill the silence Jud asked the first thing he could think of. “How long were you and your husband together?”
Blanc’s back stiffened almost imperceptibly. He finished pouring the drinks and recapped the gin. “Seventeen years,” he replied evenly.
Jud nodded. Blanc turned and walked to him, handing Jud his drink. Jud took it, careful not to let their fingers touch.
Blanc was looking at the ground in a funny way. “My husband,” he repeated finally, his tone landing somewhere between perplexed and impressed.
Jud blushed. “I… Googled you. Quite a lot. After we met.”
“Ah. I see.” Blanc settled himself into the chair opposite Jud, crossing one leg over the other. “And what else did you learn about me, amidst your Googling?”
He knew Blanc wanted to change the subject and was happy to let him. Jud sat forward in his chair, playing along. “Hmmm. That you’re a Cancer.”
Blanc nodded indulgently. “Gemini moon.”
“That you recently started playing Pickleball.”
“Now that,” Blanc said, “is really quite a tremendous sport. We’ll have to play sometimes.”
Jud grinned. He wondered if he should say his next fact, but it was the last one he could recall. “That your father was also a detective. Police detective. One of the best.”
Blanc said nothing, just nodded again.
“But you’re better,” Jud added quickly.
That made Blanc smirk. “Not a competition.”
“Well, if it was.”
Blanc tilted his chin in mild acquiescence and took a sip of his drink.
Jud looked down at his own glass, running his finger along the rim. He took a sip to match Blanc, feeling the detective’s eyes on him. Jud redirected. “Were you close with your father?”
Blanc narrowed his eyes. He pointed at Jud with his glass. “You’re trying to Priest me again.”
Jud bit down a smile and said nothing.
Blanc shook his head, but leaned forward and began speaking. “My father was… a prominent man. Well-known, well-connected. Beloved. Everyone just loved him, myself included. He’d bring me into work and show me all these pictures, these huge maps, criminals they were trying to catch. Mysteries he’d solved. I was so taken by all of it.” Blanc paused, his brow furrowing in a way Jud hadn’t seen before. “But he could be very cold. At home. He was distant. There was always this sense that he was holding something back. But you couldn’t ask him for it, because you didn’t know what it was.”
Jud asked, “Did your mother feel that, too? That she never fully knew him?”
Blanc blew air out of his mouth. “I don’t know what she felt. I suppose she knew him better than I did. She was… stubborn, my mother. Very set in her ways.”
“That must have been hard.”
Blanc chewed his lip, his eyes gazing at some faraway point behind Jud. “When I was in my twenties, I came – well, I tried to come out to her. And she found that very hard, I think. Found it difficult to reconcile this idea she had of me with… well, with who I was.”
Jud’s heart briefly seized, then deflated again. “A lot of parents are like that. Difficulty balancing their expectations against the reality of their children. Did you ge–”
“Was that the case with your parents?”
Jud blinked at him, startled at being interrupted so blatantly.
Blanc gave a tight, apologetic smile. “Sorry, Father, but if you’re gonna dish it you have to learn to take it too.”
“That’s fair,” Jud said, trying to camouflage his unease. It had been a long time since he’d been asked about his childhood. “No, that’s very fair. I didn’t know my father. He left before I was born. My mother was around, but she wasn’t really there, you know? It was just hard to connect with her. Or maybe she found it hard to connect with me. I wasn’t an easy child. I think she probably wished my dad was still there instead of me.” Jud blinked rapidly, surprised that he had said that out loud. “Anyway. I left home pretty young.”
Blanc was silent. When it was clear Jud wasn’t going to continue, the detective prompted: “And then you became a boxer.”
Jud looked down at his knuckles. “And then I became a boxer. I was already getting in fights anyway, so might as well get paid for it, right?”
Blanc allowed a partial smile.
After a beat, Jud added: “But I was good at it too, you know? It feels good to be doing something and you’re actually good at it. You feel that you’re good, people tell you that you’re good.”
Blanc put one finger to his chin. “Like being a priest.”
Jud hesitated. He was aware of pride as a sin. Somehow it felt different in the context of boxing.
Blanc took notice of his silence. “Or… you find it hard to admit you’re a good priest. Harder than admitting you’re a good fighter.”
Jud felt defensive now and did not care to examine why. “I know that I’m trying to be the best priest I can be.”
“But people tell you you’re a good priest.”
“Well –”
“Like Louise. Langstrom. Martha.”
Jud faltered, taken aback by Martha’s name. He felt the phantom feeling of her fingers on his arms. You’re really good at this.
“You still find it implausible,” Blanc drawled, in a voice suspiciously similar to when he was unravelling a mystery, “that you are indeed very good at this, even when every piece of logical evidence, every witness testimony tells us –”
“I’m trying to be a good priest,” Jud said, exasperated. “That’s enough.”
“Mmm.” Blanc sat back in his seat and took a satisfied sip of his drink as if he’d won an argument.
Jud felt angry now, leaning forward in his chair interrogatively. “What?”
Blanc raised one palm in lackadaisical surrender. “Nothing.”
“No, you want to say something.”
“I want you to realize,” Blanc spat, his voice suddenly low and fierce, his posture veering forward to match Jud’s, “that you are not some lowlife who needs to spend all of eternity making amends for things that aren’t your fault. You’ve done bad things sure and you feel guilt and you’ve been punished and you think you’ve deserved it yes fine but my problem, Father Jud, is that you seem to believe you were born some evil miscreant who just by virtue of being alive needs to repent for the sin of existing. Not a very easy child. And I know, I know, that’s Catholicism 101 but I do not believe that and neither do most people and neither do you, actually, at least not when it comes to anyone but yourself. So I think you ought to change your outlook real quick Father since frankly I find it nauseatingly hypocritical because if God loves you and you love God then I cannot for the life of me understand why it is so impossible for you to even attempt to love yourself.”
Blanc ceased his monologue with a jagged breath. He had leaned so close that Jud was momentarily distracted by the finer details of his face: the delicate lines around his eyes, the lamp light clinging to strands of blond hair. Jud’s thoughts came to him delayed and detached. Blanc thinks I’m a hypocrite. Blanc is probably right. Blanc has really nice hair.
Jud realized it was his turn to say something but found that he could not speak. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then looked down at his hands.
The room was silent save for the wind against the window and Blanc’s rocky breathing. At last, the creak of pleather as the detective leaned back in his chair.
“I’d say you can kick me out now,” Blanc said, subdued. “But this is my hotel room, so.”
Jud half-smiled. “No, you’re being honest,” he heard himself say. Echoes from a year ago, the first time they met. Jud forced himself to meet Blanc’s eye. “It’s good.”
Blanc’s face was at once so familiar and somehow utterly strange in the lowlight. A half-smile to mirror Jud’s. “Is it?”
They looked at each other. Jud didn’t know what was good. That had always been the problem.
Taking a shaky breath, Jud downed the rest of his drink and set his glass on the floor. He sat forward, putting his hands on his knees, wrapping his hands into fists and pressing them to his mouth. Though he was looking at the floor, he felt Blanc’s intense gaze, overwhelming and exposing as a spotlight. Jud could never seem to decide whether he liked the warmth of the attention or wanted to hide before he was blinded completely.
Across from him, Blanc’s voice was soft and worn. “You can tell me to fuck off.”
Jud felt a disjointed thrill at hearing Blanc swear. He closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to fuck off.”
“What do you want, then?”
The question fell heavy between them, its meanings unfolding kaleidoscopically. Blanc was genuinely asking. What do you want?
Jud looked up at the detective. How was it that just a year ago Blanc had been a stranger? Sing-songing his way into the church. Golden sunlight through stained glass. Pulling Jud up from the depths. Faith personified. Jud would never be able to thank him, would never be able to tell him what he meant. Jud couldn’t even tell himself what Blanc meant. What do you want? What do you want? Jud felt something frantic beating against his ribcage, something frightened and thrashing. Jud breathed out into his fists, still pressed tightly to his mouth. He did not trust himself to speak.
Blanc’s gaze was unwavering. He chewed lightly on his lip, considering something. At last, he downed his own drink and set the glass aside. He sat forward in his chair again. Jud’s shoulders stiffened at the proximity but he did not move away. Blanc watched him. Moving cautiously, as if approaching a flighty animal, Blanc slowly reached forward. Jud did not move. Blanc placed his hands over Jud’s folded fists. Jud did not move. Blanc gently pulled Jud’s hands away from his mouth and held him between their two bodies. Delicately, he moved his thumbs across Jud’s knuckles, then gently pressed down, working his hands open. Jud watched his own fists unfurl under Blanc’s touch, fingers blossoming open, unfolding until Jud’s palms were open and bare and skyward. Blanc ran his fingers across the tender skin of his palms, the touch light as sugar, so delicate that Jud wanted to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him there. It was possible no one ever had.
Jud looked at Blanc, and found that Blanc was looking back at him already. Like he had never looked away. Like he never would.
All at once Jud was overcome with a rush of heat and desire and uncertainty and fear and suddenly Blanc’s touch was too much too good too sweet and Jud was a starving child who had gorged himself on candy and now he felt sick, sick, sick, metaphorically and religiously and – it was occurring to Jud very quickly – literally.
Jud stood abruptly. Blanc fell back.
“Excuse me,” Jud said, and ran to the bathroom.
The toilet was not purple. Jud noticed this as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the white porcelain bowl. A purple toilet would probably be quite expensive, Jud thought. He was grateful that this thought was taking the forefront of his mind, rather than any thoughts of petrifying embarrassment he knew he ought to be concentrating on. He thanked God for this small mercy as he threw up the rest of his veggie burger.
He sensed Blanc come in behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Jud said, his voice echoing against the ceramic.
“Hush,” Blanc said simply, and pressed a cool damp cloth to Jud’s forehead.
When it was over, Blanc helped Jud from the bathroom with one arm supporting his torso. Jud felt vacant and limbless, but significantly less sick.
“I’m so sorry,” Jud said again. “Gin doesn’t always agree with me.”
“No need to apologize,” Blanc said. “You were very polite, excusing yourself like that.”
“Shut up,” Jud said, but he was smiling too.
Blanc deposited him gently on the edge of the bed. Jud closed his eyes. The world spun, lengthening and unlenghening at random, a strange twisting wavelength.
A moment later he sensed Blanc beside him again. “Here. Drink this.”
It was a glass of water. Jud drank while Blanc moved to sit further down at the end of the bed. Jud finished and lay back. Now emptied, he felt a calm, floaty feeling overtake him. He closed his eyes, let one hand fall back against a lavender pillow, letting out a long breath. He felt no desire to get up. He knew it was selfish, but he was enjoying the moment of peace, undeserving as he was.
Jud felt Blanc’s eyes on him. The silence amplified. Outside, a car passing by. The buzz of the lamp. Blanc’s eyes on him, on Jud, always on him. The priest did not want him to look away.
Jud felt an absurd bravery and spoke before it disappeared. “You’re watching me.”
There was a beat.
“I am,” Blanc replied. He didn’t look away. “That’s very rude of me, isn’t it.”
“No, I like it.” Jud was thankful that his eyes were closed, since he knew he wouldn’t be able to say these things if they were open. “I shouldn’t like it this much but I do.”
Blanc said nothing. Jud listened to the sound of his own heart thrumming painfully in his chest. He had fucked it up. He had ruined it. Why had he said that? What was he doing? What was he doing here? What do you want, Jud?
But then Jud felt a small heat above him. Before he knew what was happening, he felt Blanc’s hand, firm and flat, press against his chest. Jud let out a short breath. He kept his eyes closed and kept completely still. He didn’t want to scare it away.
Blanc kept his hand there. After a moment he began to circle his palm in a slow, maddening two-inch radius. Jud breathed out, feeling something tense release between his ribs. Gently, he let his own hand fall down and over Blanc’s, slitting their fingers together.
Blanc let out a breath like a long-stuck lock clicking into place.
The detective moved his hand in wider circles across Jud’s sweater. The steady pressure of it, the weight of it holding Jud down, was almost too much to bear. Blanc’s hand moved higher, higher, over his collarbone, towards his chin. Yes, Jud thought. Yes. A heat at his neck. A tingle. Then, finally, Blanc’s hand, bare against his cheek. Jud pressed himself into the palm like a cat. Blanc’s thumb fell to Jud’s bottom lip and stayed there.
Jud couldn’t take it any longer – he opened his eyes into Blanc’s.
The detective looked like Jud had never seen him before, eyes dark and hazy, mouth slightly parted. The two men stayed absolutely still, staring at each other. Jud let his bottom lip fall open further. An invitation, a plea, a prayer. Please.
Blanc pulled away abruptly, turning his back on Jud. Jud blinked, confused. His skin felt cold and useless without Banc’s touch.
The detective was back on the edge of the bed, hanging his head. Jud propped himself up on both elbows. “Blanc?”
He watched the back of Blanc’s head shake. Jud lifted himself up and moved further down the bed. If Blanc noticed, he didn’t let on. Jud wanted desperately to touch his back, but could not summon the stupid bravery again.
The detective was still shaking his head stiffly. “Promised myself I wouldn’t do this,” he muttered to the ground.
Despite everything, Jud felt giddy at hearing these words. Promised myself I wouldn’t do this. So Blanc had thought about this. Had thought about Jud in this way. What he would and wouldn’t do to him. Jud edged himself closer to the older man. He tried to reach out again but Blanc stood, moving away. He started to pace in short lines across the room. Jud felt sick again.
The priest sat on the edge of the bed, dangling both arms between his legs. “I’m sorry,” he offered softly.
“Don’t.” Blanc held up one hand in his direction. “Don’t, Jud. You have nothing to apologize for. I should be the one – Christ, I invited you up to my hotel room.” Blanc gave a bitter laugh, turning again on his heel. Jud felt powerless. He wanted to help. He wanted the ruffle in Blanc’s brow to go away. He wanted them to go back to how they were a minute ago. He wanted Blanc’s hand back on his chest, on his face, on his mouth, in his mouth, he wanted it, he wanted him, he wanted –
Jud reached forward and grabbed Blanc’s pant leg. Blanc instantly stilled.
The detective still wouldn't look at him, instead fixing his eyes on Jud’s legs. Slowly, Jud pulled at Blanc until he stepped closer, closer, until he stood above Jud, nearly between his knees. Jud’s fingers gripped the fabric by Blanc’s hips. He took a deep breath and lifted his head upwards.
Blanc stood above him, looking devastated and utterly holy. Jud didn’t breathe. Blanc shook his head again, conflicted. Then he reached down and ran both hands deep into Jud’s hair, urging his head back further. This felt so good that Jud’s eyes fluttered closed, blindsided by the sensation. He forced them back open to stare at Blanc’s beautiful, pained face.
“I like you very much,” Blanc said, heavy like a confession.
Jud felt his whole body light up, electrified. “I like you too,” he breathed.
“I reckon your moral compass is a hell of a lot better than mine.”
“It’s not,” Jud insisted. He shook his head, enjoying the way his movements were restricted by Blanc’s firm hold. “It’s not.”
Blanc let out a small breath through his nose, smiling ruefully. He lowered himself onto his knees so they were at eye level. One hand fell from Jud’s hair to his cheek, and Jud instantly pressed himself into the bareness of his skin. Blanc stroked a thumb across his cheek once, twice, three times.
Jud realized that this whole time he had been praying, though he could not yet admit what he was praying for. He just looked at Blanc’s lips, and hoped that Blanc knew, that Blanc could deduce, that Blanc could understand, that Blanc could take this mystery, like he always did, and unravel it into something good and real and true.
“I was this close to making it out of town,” Blanc whispered, eyes falling resolutely to the priest’s lips.
“I’m so glad you didn’t,” Jud whispered back, and kissed him.
Blanc’s lips were warm, the scratch of his stubble raw against Jud’s jaw. They both stayed very still. Jud sensed the tension surrounding them like thick water, holding them in place. Jud wanted to move. He wanted to feel it. He opened his mouth wider and let his tongue slip into Blanc’s mouth. The detective made a low sound, and Blanc suddenly shifted into action. He grabbed Jud’s waist and with one effective tug brought their bodies flush together, pulling Jud nearly off the bed.
“Fuck,” Jud breathed before he could stop himself, the word swallowed up by the small space between their mouths.
Blanc kissed him deep, hands again in his hair to pull his head back, widening his mouth. Jud was drowning; Jud was breathing air for the first time. But then suddenly Blanc was standing up, gone again. But the detective was just rolling up his sleeves, slipping off his suspenders, eyes dark and intent. He nodded curtly at the headboard. “Get back on the bed.”
Jud very willingly obliged.
Blanc came up beside him, propping himself up on one arm. His other hand went immediately to Jud’s chest again, pushing up under his sweater. He made an exasperated noise when he was stopped by Jud’s tucked-in button-up.
“Let’s get this off,” Blanc said, pulling at the fabric. Jud sat up and discarded his clothing faster than any human being ever had. He lay back down, not having the time to feel embarrassed about being shirtless in front of someone else for the first time in years. He tried to kiss Blanc but the detective was distracted, staring down at Jud’s bare chest. Jud made a frustrated grunt and reached for him again.
“Wait, just wait now,” Blanc said, taking Jud’s hand in his own to hold it still. His voice was airy with wonder. “Look at you.”
Jud did not want to look at himself, but he did like the way Blanc was looking at him – enraptured. Hungry, almost. Blanc grazed his hand over Jud’s chest, barely making contact. Jud shivered. Blanc turned his attention to Jud’s neck tattoo, now fully uncovered. An angel and a devil in a complex embrace, underlined by the word Serendipity. Jud tried to remember the last time someone had seen the tattoo in full. It was Jud’s favourite thing about his entire body.
Blanc gently traced the edges of the design. Jud craned his neck, willing him to do more.
“Serendipity,” Blanc enunciated. “Pretty.” He pressed his mouth to the ink, spoke against Jud’s skin. “Shame to keep them covered up.”
Jud felt tipsy with the feeling of Blanc’s lips against his neck. “Only special people get to see it.”
Blanc laughed lightly and pulled away. “I must be very special then.”
“You are,” Jud said, and used the opportunity to crash their mouths together again.
This time Blanc did not pretend to be shy. He grabbed Jud’s jaw firmly in one hand, turning his head to get a better angle. Jud gasped deeply, letting himself be maneuvered. One of Blanc’s arms snaked around behind Jud’s back and pressed against his temple; the other hand pressed firmly down against Jud’s chest, no longer prohibited by the sweater. His thumb ran intentionally over Jud’s nipple, and Jud made a soft muffled sound. Blanc noticed and repeated the action again, then again.
“That okay?” Blanc said into Jud’s hair. Jud nodded fervently.
Blanc’s hand moved lower, landing at Jud’s waistband. Jud was already so hard, and was briefly alarmed by how fast he knew he would come. He was already halfway there and Blanc had barely touched him yet.
The detective hesitated, one finger hanging off Jud’s belt loop. “Can I touch you?” Blanc asked.
Jud nodded, biting down on his lip. Blanc turned Jud’s head towards him and said, “Darling, you have to talk to me if we’re gonna get anywhere.”
“Yes.” Jud nodded again, swallowing. He was thrown by how much the darling had turned him on. “Sorry. Yes. You can – you can do anything.”
Blanc’s grin spread wide and devious. “Anything, huh?”
Jud grinned back at him. “I trust you,” he said, the admission coming out more sincere than he intended.
Blanc stilled again. He stared at Jud, then gently brought their lips together, slow and purposeful. Jud moaned into it and pressed his body closer to Blanc’s while the detective’s hand worked open his zipper and pushed down his pants. He palmed Jud through his underwear, cupping him firmly. Jud nearly cried out with the pressure of it. His breathing became splotchy. He raised his hips up, up, up towards Blanc's touch.
Blanc suddenly pulled his hand away, bringing it up to his own mouth and spitting succinctly into the middle of his palm. Jud stared, instantly categorizing this as the hottest thing he’d ever seen, knowing that he would never forget it and touch himself to this memory for the rest of his life. Blanc noticed him watching; Jud saw the gears turning in his head. Blanc slowly brought his hand up under Jud’s chin, an invitation. Lowering his eyes, Jud spat down into Blanc’s hand too, watching their spit glisten in the center of his palm.
“Lord.” Blanc huffed out a short breath, spellbound. “How on earth are you real?”
But before Jud could respond, the detective reached down and took his cock into his hand.
“Oh,” Jud breathed. The sensation was almost blinding in its pleasure. Jud turned his head, his mouth falling and staying open.
He sensed Blanc smirking above him. His hand glided over Jud’s cock in slow, slick strokes. Jud’s breath became ragged, his fingers tightening in Blanc’s collar. Only then did he realized the detective was still fully clothed, while Jud was open and bare beneath him. The realization made Jud impossibly harder. Blanc was intently watching his hand work Jud’s cock.
“Shit, you’re pretty,” Blanc muttered, sounding almost mad about it. His hand sped up. Jud bit down a moan, feeling himself begin to lose it. He looked up at Blanc, eyes wide. Blanc caught him looking and bent down, hovering a half-inch away from Jud, not letting them kiss, though Jud’s mouth was open and aching for it.
“Knew you’d be so good for me,” Blanc whispered, not slowing his wrist.
“Blanc, I –” Jud’s voice was wrecked.
“I know, sweetheart, I know.”
Blanc swiped his thumb over Jud’s tip and Jud’s gasp broke into a cry. He pressed his hand over his mouth to quiet himself but Blanc pulled it away and held it firm. “Nuh uh. None of that. Wanna hear you when you come.”
Jud felt himself cresting, the feeling becoming white-hot. “Blanc, fuck, I’m –”
“That’s it,” Blanc said. “Come on, baby. Come now.”
Jud did as he was told. Blanc's hand continued to work him while Jud felt his own warmth paint his stomach, hot and sticky. He kept moving until Jud was spent. Jud collapsed further into the detective, mouth open wide against his shirt. He became aware of Blanc’s other hand gently stroking the sweaty hair at his temple, Blanc’s soothing voice pressing praise into his hairline. Perfect, darling. So perfect.
Jud could not remember feeling so content.
Blanc brought up his own hand – still covered in Jud – up between them to wipe it on a sheet. Without thinking Jud grabbed it and brought it to his own mouth, licking up Blanc’s palm. Blanc’s breath stopped. Jud felt a great pride at catching the detective off guard.
“You – Christ, Jud.” Blanc breathed raggedly as Jud continued to lick his own come off Blanc’s fingers. He took each one into his mouth, sucking from the knuckle up, keeping eye contact. When he was done Blanc grabbed his jaw and kissed him deeply, a reward. Jud melted into him again. He forgot how fun this could be.
Speaking of fun. Jud could feel Blanc’s cock hardening between them as they kissed, and a new urgency overtook him. He flung one leg over Blanc and and pressed down, straddling him. Blanc lay back and watched Jud fondly, one hand thrown languidly over his forehead. With shaky fingers Jud began unbuttoning Blanc’s shirt – it was absurd that he still had this much clothing on. When he was uncovered Jud stared down at the older man, starstruck. The detective was toned and perfect, soft pale hair across his golden skin. Jud ran his hands from Blanc’s collarbone to his pecs to his stomach, wanting only to touch all of him at once. He was unreal.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jud whispered.
Blanc’s face changed, his brow furrowing again as if he were in pain. Wordlessly he reached up and grasped the back of Jud’s neck, drawing him down. Jud fell to him, opening eagerly to the detective. He parted his mouth and licked along Blanc’s lips, earning a deep groan from the man beneath him. He felt Blanc’s cock harden between them, pressing up against his thigh. Jud ground his hips down experimentally and Blanc’s hands flew to Jud’s hips, holding him firm, guiding his movement. Jud bent again, brushing his lips against Blanc’s ear.
“Can I touch you?” Jud asked.
Blanc, distracted by Jud’s hips, only nodded.
“Detective,” Jud said, “you’re going to have to talk to me if we’re gonna get anywhere.”
Blanc laughed brightly and kissed Jud again, rough and quick, nipping at his bottom lip. “Touché, padre. Yes. Anything you want, I believe it was.”
Jud grinned. Emboldened by the permission, he felt energy spring like ribbons through all his limbs. He suddenly knew exactly what he wanted. Bouncing himself off of Blanc, he stood at the end of the bed then in one swift movement grabbed both the detective’s ankles and pulled him down to the edge of the mattress.
Blanc laughed, startled. “Okay, cowboy.”
Jud grinned, falling to his knees beside the bed and undoing Blanc’s pants. The ludicrous courage had returned. “Sorry, need me to slow down for you old man?”
In an instant Blanc sat up and had a fistful of Jud’s hair, pulling back so sharply that Jud gasped a strained hah.
“Oh, so he’s cocky now?” Blanc said, eyes dark and amused.
All of Jud’s assertiveness dissolved the second Blanc touched him; he bent pliantly under the detective’s grip. “Guess so.”
“Quite the mouth on you for someone so holy.”
Jud flushed with heat, unsure if his body was rejecting the words or dying to hear more. He worked Blanc’s pants off, hypnotized by how Blanc’s cock strained against the fabric.
“I can show you what else it can do,” Jud said, astonished by the words coming from his own lips. What did his mouth do? Say shit like this, apparently.
“That right?” Blanc asked, grinning lazily. With one hand Blanc reached down and lowered his waistband. His cock sprang free, heavy and pink and beautiful, etched with veins, nestled in soft blond pubic hair.
“Fuck,” Jud breathed, falling forward eagerly.
But Blanc’s hand tightened in Jud’s hair, restraining him. “I don’t believe we’ve finished our conversation though, have we?”
Jud pushed forward again but Blanc was steadfast. The priest made a frustrated noise. Blanc casually reached down with his other hand and began stroking himself in long, languid motions. Jud’s jaw dropped.
Blanc was watching him, hand moving steadily. “Thought you might like to discuss my advanced age a bit more.”
“Blanc –”
“You seemed so talkative earlier, I just figured –”
“I get it.”
“What, no more acute observations?”
Blanc’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock. Jud was going to cry. “Blanc, I get it, please just –”
Jud bent his head and was again rebuffed. He held himself back from whining.
Blanc chuckled. “Lord. Eager, are we?”
Jud was going insane. “Fucking kind of, yeah.”
“Something something love is kind, something something love is patient?”
Momentarily derailed, Jud turned to hide a grin against Blanc’s thigh. “I knew you knew scripture.”
“I knew you knew Cats.”
They beamed at each other.
Jud made his face serious again, looking up imploringly. He pawed at Blanc’s hip. “Are you gonna make me beg?”
“Well,” Blanc said. “You’re already so pretty down there on your knees.”
Jud full-body blushed. Okay, he definitely liked it when Blanc talked like that. Jud lowered his chin, looking up through his lashes. He saw Blanc’s face go slack, his hand slowing. “Blanc, please let me.”
“Let you what.”
Jud licked his lips. He tried not to let the desperation leak into his voice, but it did anyway. “Please let me suck you off. Please.”
Blanc smiled softly. He lifted his hand from his own cock and brought his thumb to Jud’s lips, parting them easily. Jud closed his mouth around Blanc’s skin, tasting salt and heat, feeling crazed and sedated all at once.
Blanc pulled his hand away and leaned back. “Okay, pretty boy,” he relented, releasing his grip on Jud’s hair. “Show me then.”
Jud surged forward and took Blanc in his mouth.
It had been a while since Jud had done this, and the experience felt at once so familiar and new. Jud held Blanc at the base and took him as far as he could, enjoying the immediate stretch of it. Blanc was bigger than Jud had ever taken, and he fucking loved it. He licked his tongue along the underside of his cock, wanting to memorize the texture of it, his veins.
Above him, Blanc let out a long, slow breath.
Jud found himself in a sort of trance, his body moving instinctively. He gripped Blanc’s legs and lapped delicately at the head of his cock. He let his mouth slacken and saliva collect. He was slightly taken aback by the obscene sounds his mouth made as it swallowed Blanc’s cock, but the detective seemed to be quite enjoying it.
Blanc rested his hand gently on the back of Jud’s head, petting his hair. “That’s real good, baby,” Blanc said, voice low. His Southern accent grew somehow even more pronounced as he lost control.
Jud looked up at him through his lashes and showed off a bit, slipping himself further down onto Blanc’s cock. Blanc’s breath caught again, his eyes never leaving Jud. His fingers tightened on the back of Jud’s hair as he gently guided the priest further and further down on his cock. Jud leaned into it, let himself be pressed down, adoring the way his throat was being filled. When his mouth reached Blanc’s pelvis, he heard the detective let out another deep sigh.
“Jesus,” Blanc breathed. “You been holding out on me, kid?”
Jud looked up at him again, eyes glinting mischievously. He started to speed up his movements. The desire to make Blanc lose control was overwhelming – he wanted him everywhere.
Blanc’s fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair, his voice low and breakable. “Darling, if you need to get off, now would–”
Jud deepened his position, held Blanc's cock deep in his throat, letting his eagerness speak for itself. He looked up at Blanc again, hoping he understood. Please.
He saw the moment Blanc lost it. With a strained grunt, the detective threw his head back and came gloriously down Jud’s throat. Jud closed his eyes, rejoicing, feeling like he was drowning and being saved all at once. He took all Blanc had to give until the detective gently pushed him away. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling. Satisfied, Jud sat back and wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand. Blanc looked down at him with his chin still raised, smiling appreciatively.
“Quite the mouth,” Blanc said. Jud fought his smile. His smile won.
Softening his face, Blanc reached down for Jud. “Here,” Blanc said, pulling. “Come up here.”
Jud rose and settled himself in the detective’s lap. Immediately Blanc took his chin in his hand and kissed him, sliding his tongue across Jud’s lips and deep into his mouth. Jud moaned and pushed forward, letting Blanc taste himself. Jud was breathless by the time he was done, gasping into the air between them.
Blanc sat back and pushed a lock of hair off Jud’s forehead. “You’re really something, you know that?”
Jud smiled, and pressed himself tighter against the other man’s body. He let himself be held, exhaling for what felt like the first time in years. “So are you, detective.”
Despite their appearance, the purple bedsheets were actually quite soft. Jud fell asleep faster than he had in years, nestled between the lilac sheet and Blanc’s strong arms. He slept deeply and dreamlessly, and awoke in the early morning with his dick so hard it was painful. Still half asleep, he rubbed himself against the detective’s thigh, his mind only concerned with how good it felt, with how bad he needed it.
He felt Blanc stir a moment later. The detective tilted his chin towards Jud, eyes still closed. “Hmmm?”
Jud couldn’t speak, didn’t want to. He pressed himself up against Blanc. He sensed Blanc’s understanding, felt the moment his body registered Jud’s cock against him. Blanc made a soft cooing noise.
“Sweetheart,” Blanc muttered, voice like honey. “Need me to take care of that for you?"
Jud nuzzled himself into the crook of Blanc’s shoulder. He knew he was grinding desperately and could not care. He only felt relief when Blanc’s warm hand reached down and took him in his palm. Jud’s mouth fell open, and he couldn't stop a small whine from slipping through.
“There we go,” Blanc praised, his voice still rough with sleep.
Jud was amazed how Blanc’s words could turn him on just as much as physical touch. His head was fuzzy with adoration. He jerked his hips up, fucking into Blanc’s hand. The detective tightened his grip on Jud’s body.
Blanc bent his head down. “Dreaming of me, were you?”
“Always,” Jud replied.
He could tell this pleased Blanc deeply. The detective made a gruff noise, tucking his head in further. His hand sped up.
Jud put his mouth to Blanc’s ear. He felt crazy with it, suddenly so desperate to see his impact on the detective. “Please, fuck, Blanc.” Jud made his voice soft and whiny, feeling how it turned Blanc on. “Please, oh my God. Benoit.”
That got him. Blanc made a noise against him, halfway between a growl and a moan.
“Again,” Blanc commanded. “My name, again.”
“Benoit, Benoit, Benoit, fuck. Please?”
Blanc groaned. He pumped Jud’s cock with more vigour as Jud felt his mouth fall open, his orgasm overtaking him.
“Fuck,” Jud said, “I’m –”
“That’s right, that’s it. Good boy, good boy.”
Oh. That was it, that was exactly right. Jud pressed his face further into Blanc as he came, unable to stop the embarrassing noise from escaping his mouth, holding on tightly to the detective’s shoulders for stability. Blanc continued working him, stroking him, holding him gently when he was done. Jud felt his breath, rhythmic and calming, his lungs like two fists clenching and unclenching. He looked to Blanc, who had been watching him with unabridged reverence.
Jud was suddenly awake to it all: to the absurdity, the wonder, the holiness of this whole thing. Of them. Jud felt a smile break onto his face. He watched Blanc’s own mouth break into a grin. And then they were both laughing, stupid, uproarious laughter, and they could not stop.
Blanc grabbed both sides of Jud’s face and kissed him deeply, still chuckling into his mouth. Jud pulled back and impulsively licked flat up along the side of Blanc’s face, not knowing why, not caring. Blanc let out a loud hoot of laughter, grabbing Jud’s hair hard in both hands and holding him in place. He looked Jud in the eye, their laughter fading, both of them in breathless disbelief.
“You,” Blanc said, “drive me absolutely goddamn insane.”
“I feel pretty normal about you overall,” Jud replied.
Blanc huffed. He continued to hold Jud’s face, his thumbs tracing soft arcs across his skin. Blanc’s face fell then, his smile fading. He chewed on his bottom lip.
Jud was immediately worried he’d done something wrong. “What?”
Blanc watched him.“Can I say the dishonest part out loud now?”
Jud’s throat dried. He nodded, swallowing.
Blanc let out a short breath. “To tell you the truth, Jud, I… I got quite scared when you asked me to stay for your service. I got scared because I wanted to. Lord, did I want to. And a year ago there was nothing, and I mean nothing, that could make me want to set foot in a church again. But now…”
He smiled gently at the Priest. But now, you. Jud’s eyes got watery.
Blanc continued, his voice wavering. “And I believe that some part of me was hoping to see you again. No, I know that’s what I wanted. For you to be there. And then, there you were. And here you are. And despite all logical explanations, Jud, I find myself at a loss for –” He cut himself off, swallowed, his own eyes shining. He smiled at Jud, shaking his head again. “And I just keep wondering, Father, if you might have some sort of holy explanation for all of this?”
Jud laughed, sniffling. He put his hand against Blanc’s cheek, and the detective closed his eyes to the touch.
“Things happen for a reason,” Jud said. “For good reasons.” They looked at each other, each reflected in the other's loving, tearful gaze. “Serendipity.”
Blanc smiled back at him. Morning light, pure and gold, was beginning to shine through the curtains, illuminating both their faces. The detective nodded, satisfied. “That makes sense to me,” he said. “Very much so.”
“Me, too.” Jud leaned forward and gave himself over again, pressing into Blanc’s arms, feeling them tighten around him, and knowing that he would not let him go any time soon.