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“I masturbated. Five times. Last week.” Jud knew that his transfer to this small community is a punishment, one that he deserves. Sitting down with Monsignore Wicks for the first time and listening to his crude confession has him wondering, though, whether his misbehavior does warrant him assisting this man. It’s not what Wicks is telling him, they are all sinners, cleric or not, but the way he speaks those words, eyes fixed on Jud’s face, waiting for any reaction, shock, maybe disgust.
Wicks definitely wants to unsettle him, however Jud met enough priests who never missed an opportunity to show him that he doesn’t belong, that his past stands in the way of him ever being accepted as one of their own. So it’s only mild annoyance he’s feeling while he listens to Wicks going on and on about his masturbatory misconduct. Looking back, it would’ve probably been better to let Wicks have this little victory of getting a rise out of Jud.
-
Martha is professionally distant, showing him around and telling him about her duties and how she’s all the assistant Monsignore Wicks could ever wish for. The message is loud and clear, and Jud almost tells her, ‘I want to be here as much as you all want me to’, he only politely thanks her for her efforts, though.
His room is small and surprisingly comfortable, clean and warm, with everything he needs. He settles in, unpacks his clothing and his books, and decides to take a walk through the little town that will be his home for the foreseeable future. No one quite told him what his new position required of him, so getting in contact with the locals seems like a good plan.
Later, he returns with an uneasy feeling in his stomach, because while he didn’t expect a warm welcome, he wasn’t prepared for the hostility every person he talked to greeted him with.
-
During the next few days he roams around restlessly, trying and failing to find answers in his prayers to what is God’s plan for him here in this place. All the while he doesn’t see a lot of the Monsignore and he can’t say he’s too unhappy about it. When he asks about Sunday's mass Wicks tells him he’s supposed to listen in for now, see how ‘things are done around here’.
And things are definitely done differently. Wicks is captivating, drawing Jud in with his powerful way of speaking, loud voice, expressive face and movement of his hands. Yet the hate Wicks is propagating is hard to stomach, especially because he seems to try to shock the people listening the same way he did with Jud.
Unsurprisingly, only a small group came to church, but those who did are nodding along, admiration and devotion shining in their eyes.
After mass Jud follows Wicks to the house they share, “Monsignore, I’d like to speak to you.”
“Later,” Wicks tries, picking up his pace.
“It’s about your sermon.”
That lets Wicks stop in his tracks, turning around with an ugly grin on his face, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those liberal pussys.”
“I just think we’re here to spread God’s love,” Jud says hesitantly, aware it’s not really his place to judge the Monsignore’s ways. He’s here to assist after all, to do what he’s being told, but Jud has always been bad at listening to what his seniors tell him, that’s why he’s here in the first place.
“Pussy,” Wicks only repeats and continues his way to the house. So that is that.
-
They sit down once a week for confession, Wicks insists on it. While Jud tries to be as honest as possible despite his discomfort, Wicks' own confessions are getting more and more absurd. He’s mainly talking about sexual thoughts and acts, always describing when and how he pleasured himself. His favorite method of unsettling Jud further seems to be to remind him of those stories even outside their conversations. During one confession he might tell Jud that he gathered his semen in a red cup, just to have Martha bring him his afternoon coffee in said cup the next day.
Jud hates every second of their time together, but giving in, giving Wicks the satisfaction of showing his disgust, only seems to lead to even greater torment.
-
During his years as a priest Jud met enough so called hardliners. Men who thought that almost every aspect of the modern world leads to eternal damnation. They all had in common that they truly seemed to believe in the hate they taught. When he listens to Wicks preach, though, he isn’t too sure about it.
Monsignore Wicks certainly does hate, but Jud is pretty certain that this hatred isn’t rooted in his belief in God. He never heard Wicks speak a kind word, never heard him speak about the love God has for every single being in his creation, and it has Jud wonder whether Wicks is even able to feel this love, this certainty of God always being with him as long as he’s ready to let Him into his life. Sometimes Jud feels sorry for Wicks.
-
“I had a dream last night,” Wicks begins his confession, “About a young man. Good looking, some might say. He came for me, naked as God made him. His cock was erect, I remember it being the first thing I noticed about him. Then he sank to his knees. You know what he did then?”
“I can imagine,” Jud says hesitantly.
“I don’t, because I woke up then. I was hard myself. So I masturbated. When I came I remembered the man had your eyes.”
It’s the first time Jud’s mask of indifference to Wicks' crude words almost slips.
-
Jud came into priesthood fairly late, compared to most men in his position. He led a life he now considers being full of sin. He drank, tried a few drugs, inflicted pain, hated, had sex. The last thing he misses the most, and he’s seeing it as a blessing, that he’s able to go through this hardship in order for him to be closer to God. And while he stayed celibate ever since he decided to take his vows, he can’t say he abstained entirely from masturbation. He knows it’s sinful, giving in to a pleasure that he isn’t supposed to feel outside the martial bed, and yet his body is too weak from time to time, his mind not strong enough to fight it. It always is a quick and embarrassing matter. The shameful feeling in the pit of his stomach almost enough to stop his hand from taking hold of his penis and bringing him to closure. Almost.
Ever since he was sent here, the frequency in which he gives into those bodily needs increases.
-
Jud tries to get in contact with the local people, those who were expelled from the church by Wicks' hostility, and those who are devoted to the Monsignore. His strategy for the first group is to prove himself as one of their own, as part of the community. So he visits the cafe, the bar, the library, does his errants and all the while makes polite small talk, hoping the trust will build over time.
For the latter group his strategy is to somehow find ways to get them to church without Wicks being present, to have an undisturbed conversation about their beliefs and relationship with God, hoping to find a way to guide them towards a path of love for themselves but others as well. He realizes how futile his plans probably are.
-
“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” Wicks says, looking to the ground for once, “I brought myself pleasure. It was not just my hand this time though. I don’t know what made me do it, but there was this candle on my nightstand. A long, small thing. I keep the lotion there as well. It made it easy, putting it into myself.” He raises his gaze then, eyes full of mischief, drawling the next words as if his enjoying to speak them immensely, “I fucked myself with it. I didn’t know how good it would feel. Do you know, father, how good it feels?”
Taking by surprise Jud answers, “Yes.”
Somehow, he knows he lost their little game.
-
That night he wakes up drenched in sweat, the dream still on his mind. Wicks' face, his voice, his hands on Jud’s body. His cock is painfully hard, not just in the dream but here in his bed as well. His hand is taking hold of it before he can stop himself. With one stroke he's coming, Wicks' mocking voice echoing in his head.
-
“The Monsignore needs your help,” Martha tells him one afternoon. She’s trying to stay out of his way as much as possible, fulfills her duties stoically, but never gives him more attention than she’s obligated to. This little talk feels weird from the get go. “That’s what I’m here for,” Jud says carefully.
“The mass is hard on him. He gives his everything into his preaching in order to guide us. All those years of devotion to this community are taking its toll on him.”
“I offered to take over for him from time to time, he always declines.”
“Of course, it’s his church. I’m not asking you to take over, just to guide a few minutes during mass, maybe sing a gospel or read a few verses. I already looked up a few fitting ones. Just so that the Monsignore can restore some of his energy.”
“I think I know how to preach a mass without you giving me tips,” he says, suddenly angry about him sitting around here for months, doing nothing, just for Martha to tell him what to do during those few minutes he might be granted during mass.
“Of course,” she bows her head ever so slightly, ice cold look in her eyes, “I’m going to tell the Monsignore you’re ready to support him then.” And with that she’s turning around on the spot and leaves an even angerier Jud behind.
Sunday, he learns what ‘restoring energy’ means as Wicks comes back from his little break reeking of schnaps.
-
The dreams not only plague his nights, he can't stop thinking about them during the day either. Whenever his gaze lands on Wicks he remembers all the ways he told him about pleasuring himself and how a few of these stories played out in his dreams. And whenever his thoughts quiet down, they're occupied by his shame about all those instances the memories of Wicks' confessions let his hand wander south.
-
“Sit down with me,” Wicks tells him a few days later, as Jud walks past the dining room as he comes home late in the evening.
They never ate together, neither of them usually uses the room anyway, Martha mostly brings the meals to their offices or leaves them something in the kitchen. So Jud is taken aback by the not quite offer, it actually rather sounds like a command, and he doesn’t feel like he has any choice here. When he enters the dining room he sees two plates with spaghetti carbonara and glasses filled with red wine. Apparently, Wicks set this up and considering how cold the pasta is when they begin to eat, Wicks waited for his return for a while. After having swallowed the first bite of his meal Jud takes a big gulp from his glass, assuming he’s going to need the alcohol.
“You did fine on Sunday,” Wicks says unexpectedly. It might have been the kindest words the Monsignore ever spoke to him. “We can do it like that again this week.”
“Yes,” Jud nods, “I’d like to.”
They eat in silence and Jud is stupid enough to almost think Wicks really only arranged this dinner for the sole purpose of talking about their work. It’s like he can sense the exact moment Jud lets his guard down, because he abruptly asks, “Do you think about our last confession?”
Jud can keep himself from spitting out the wine he just was about to swallow down and answers after a few seconds with a rough voice, “I don’t talk about confessions people made to me.”
“I don’t ask you to talk about it, I just ask whether you thought about what I told you.”
Yes, he did. Lying in bed at night and waking up in the wee hours of the morning to find a candle on his bedside table. He threw it out and told himself he imagined it being there.
He decides to keep silent, unfortunately Wicks doesn’t. “Because I thought about it. Every night.”
With that Jud leaves the room.
-
In his old life Jud had sex with men. Not often, not preferably, but it happened. He penetrated and got penetrated, and while he doesn’t think every person acting that way will go to hell, he knows that homosexuality is a sin like every other, and that in the end it is a matter between God and himself. He tries to do good in the world, tries to atone for his sins, and while having gay sex certaintly isn’t his biggest sin, it’s the one that has him ashamed the most right now. Not just because he still remembers the pleasure he felt back then in great detail, but because he still wants.
-
“Forgive me father for I have sinned.” For the first time he’s the one to begin the confession, speaking the words before Wicks had the chance to fully settle down. He’s getting desperate, his thoughts being occupied more and more by the poison Wicks successfully spread there, and he needs to put an end to it.
They’re sitting inside Wicks' office, the weather too harsh for their usual spot in the gardens for a few weeks now. The office never felt so small, though, so intimidating. Jud wonders whether he rather should have insisted on doing it in the confessional. It’s too late now, though.
“I’m thinking impure thoughts. During most hours of the day.”
Wicks nods behind his desk, look on his face perfectly neutral, “Are you acting on those thoughts?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I’m pleasuring myself.”
“How?”
Jud feels his cheek turn pink and his mouth getting dry, he doesn’t dare to answer.
“Tell me,” Wicks says with a stern voice and for the first time Jud has an idea what makes Wicks' little group of desperate souls so devoted to him. He wants to tell Wicks all about his sins, finally giving in to what he's been asking of him ever since their first confession. Slowly wearing him down with those stories of masturbation and the reminders to them scattered in Jud’s day to day life, and those few questions hitting right where they were supposed to, bringing back memories and desires Jud thought he had overcome.
“With my hand,” Jud finally says, and it feels like letting go.
“With your hand on your penis?” Wicks asks as if it isn’t obvious.
Jud can’t help himself, but he realizes how his pants are suddenly tighter around his midsection. “Yes. I stroked it until I orgasmed.”
Nodding, Wicks seems to mull over what Jud said, then he asks, “What were you thinking about while doing it?”
Jud shrugs, his cheeks burning now, impossibly confined in his own clothing.
“I think we have to get to the bottom of what made you do it in order for you to atone for your sins,” Wicks tells him. Says it like he doesn’t talk about himself masturbating several times a week during every single one of their confessions, like he really just wants to help Jud and isn’t doing it for his own pleasure.
And despite Jud knowing all of this, he keeps sitting in his chair, his fingers gripping the armrests so tight his knuckles turn white, and nods.
“I think we should recreate the situation so that you can remember exactly what you thought about while pleasuring yourself.”
He knows what Wicks asks of him, of course he does, still he waits for the words, needs to hear them. He hasn’t even realized his gaze sunk to his own knees, until he looks up again, right into Wicks' face who smiles almost generously.
“Open your pants, father, get your cock out.”
Jud follows the order immediately, his fingers shaking in excitement and nervousness in equal parts. His penis springs free, and when he stops in his tracks to look back up at Wicks to await further instructions, Wicks grins, “Good boy.”
An embarrassingly loud moan leaves Jud lips before he can bite down on them. It only makes Wicks grin even harder. “Now take your cock into your hand, not too tight. Yes, just like that, and now begin to move your hand, slowly, just up and down.”
It feels better than anything else in years, following orders, stroking his dick while Wicks stares him down. He wants to pick up the pace, wants to let go and just surrender to the pleasure, but he wants to be good even more.
“No, don’t close your eyes, look at me.”
He didn’t even realize he closed them, the tight grip around his erection the only thing that matters right now. His breathing is getting faster, his hand wet with precum and he realizes he started to increase the movement. Wicks doesn’t scold him for it, though, instead he asks, “So what are you thinking about?”
“You,” Jud answers immediately without giving it another thought.
“What exactly are you thinking about me doing?”
“About those stories you told me. About you pleasuring yourself. About that fucking candle.”
That makes Wicks laugh. “So you liked my present.”
“I threw it away,” Jud says breathlessly. It’s getting harder and harder to speak, he isn’t thinking at all anymore, at least there is no way to explain why he’s saying all these things.
“Why did you?”
“I was scared of what I’d do with it.”
“And what was it?”
“Please,” Jud moans, every stroke leaving a fiery trail on his skin. It’s too much, it’s not enough.
“Please what?”
“I need to come.”
“No, you need to tell me what you wanted to do with that candle. We need to find out what makes you sin, don’t we, father?”
“I wanted to fuck myself with it. I saw it, and jerked off, and looked at it and thought about where it had been before. I wanted it inside of me so desperately. I needed it.” He’s close to tears now, from the exertion of hindering himself from coming or from the shame of that confession he doesn’t know.
“Good boy,” Wicks says again, and this time it makes Jud only whimper. He stops the movement of his hand, tightens it around his dick painfully and is barely able to keep himself from spilling over.
“You may come,” Wicks finally releases him, and Jud does come with just one more stroke of dick.
For a moment he sees stars, his orgasm a full body experience he doesn’t remember ever feeling that intensely before. Through it all he realizes he’s moaning obscenely loud, and that he covers not only his hand but his pants and shirt in cum as well. He can’t even begin to care.
“You are forgiven, father,” Wicks says with a benevolent smile, when Jud slowly comes back.
It all comes crashing down then, what he just did, said, that he knew what he got himself into and didn’t even consider putting an end to it for one second. Suddenly, he feels sick.
It’s a small mercy that Wicks unexpectedly says, “You’re dismissed now.” And Jud more or less runs out of the room, before Wicks can change his mind. There is no doubt anymore who won their little game.
-
Sleep doesn’t come for Jud this night, neither during the next. He hates what he did, and hates the fact that he can’t stop thinking about it even more. When he falls into a few hours of restless sleep after all, he wakes up drenched in sweat and with a painful erection that is leaking against his thigh. He stays strong, though, doesn’t touch himself, only takes a cold shower when he can’t bring his body to calm down on its own.
During the days he mostly locks himself in his office and tries his best to get out of Wicks' way. It actually works until they have to see each other at mass, but even there Wicks doesn’t so much as look at him. A small, desperate part of Jud thinks Wick is just as ashamed about what they did. Of course, he’s wrong.
-
When Wicks surprisingly walks up on him in the hallway two days later to tell him he’s in need of their weekly meeting again, Jud does make him go to the confessional. Sitting down in different cabins doesn’t really have the desired effect, though.
“I have brought pleasure to myself, thinking about you and your pretty cock,” Wicks tells him, and even though Jud can’t fully see his face, he’s sure there’s a satisfied gleam in Wick’s eyes. They’re probably right where Wicks wanted them to be and Jud fell for it.
He wants to say something, anything, instead Wicks' words send all the blood from his brian to his dick. He immediately feels the same need he felt last week, that tormented him during all those days in between.
“I fucked my hand like you fucked yours in my chair. You were so good, doing what I told you, and it made me so fucking hard, thinking about how good you want to be for me.”
It sends it wave of satisfaction through his body, hearing those words, even though Wicks only says them for his own gain. For the last few days Jud was nothing but ashamed and embarrassed about what he did in this office. Wicks telling him that what he did was right, that it made Wicks himself feel good, brought him pleasure, is almost an absolution.
“I always want to be good for you,” Jud whispers, the words burning on the tip of his tongue, and yet it’s as if another weight is lifted off his shoulders the moment he speaks them.
“I know. I know, my good boy. And you behaved during the last week, didn’t you? Didn’t touch yourself because you know only I can grant you pleasure?”
“Yes,” Jud says, and despite both of them knowing the answer even before that, it feels like he crossed a finale line.
“Come here,” Wicks says suddenly.
“What?”
“You heard me, come over.”
With shaking legs Jud gets up, walks over to the other cabin, opens the door and steps in. It’s too small for them both, so Jud is pressed in between Wicks' spread legs, who’s still sitting on the chair and grinning like he won a major prize.
“Open up.” And Jud does.
For the first time in ten years he gets a blow job, and when he comes down Wicks' throat he catches himself thinking this right here might be heaven.
-
The high is followed by another low, even deeper than the one before. Jud knows it can’t happen again, and is certain it will despite it. He has to put an end to it. It’s not that easy, though. He can’t just leave without having to fear consequences. He can’t tell anyone the truth because it wouldn’t just destroy Wicks' life but his own as well. It doesn’t leave too many options.
-
One option is getting drunk in the local bar and it makes him wonder whether Wicks became a drunk in order to live with himself, or because he turned out this way because he’s an alcoholic. It’s probably a little bit of both. So many drinks in he lost count, he looks around the room and realizes that he was led astray the last few weeks, that he didn’t come here to better himself, but to help this community not getting the guidance it deserves. He sees lonely people of all ages, desperate people, heartbroken people, all drowning their sorrows just like Jud is doing right now. And of course they do, because through the last decades their community was poisoned by Wicks and his hate. Whenever it’s just the two of them, though, there is no sign of the hatred Wicks carries around wherever he goes. Of course, he did unspeakable things to Jud, made him give himself over to sinful pleasure, but that might just be why Jud was sent here. To take the hatred and sin from Wicks and therefore stop him from spreading it even further. He isn’t able to get through to those people, but he could be able to keep the poison that is Wicks' preaching away from them as well. He only needs to give himself fully over in order for them to be safe.
-
He rides his bike back, almost excited now that he knows there might be a way to win this after all. In his mania he steals a devil’s head from the bar, throwing it through one of the church’s windows in order to lure Wicks in. The noise does summon him, and coming face to face with the Monsignore Jud realizes he isn’t the only one who had an epiphany tonight. He should probably be scared, Wicks is erratic on normal days, he doesn’t want to know what this almost excited looking Wicks might be capable of.
Instead of even acknowledging the broken window or asking what Jud is doing here in the middle of the night, Wicks walks down the aisle, until they meet at the altar. “Bend over,” Wicks growls, his hands already opening Jud’s pants, his mouth suddenly leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and harsh bites on Jud’s neck.
He hisses in surprise, but instead of complaining, he begins to open Wicks' pants as well, his trembling hands and desperate need to be touched making him take that much longer to complete this simple task. “Fuck me,” he growls. He’s finally done with the pants then, and takes his hands to Wicks' face so that he has to let go of his neck and look him in his eyes. He presses their foreheads together, needs to be closer still, nothing seems to be enough. “Please fuck me.”
Their lips meet, just for a second, and it almost feels like a kiss, then Wicks pushes him back against the altar and makes him turn around. Jud probs himself up on his forearms, pushes his hips back and therefore his naked ass to the empty stands. Wicks takes a few steps away from him and Jud is ready to complain, but then he realizes that he’s getting the oil to slick himself up. It’s the first time he gets a peak at Wicks' cock, not long enough to see a lot in the dark church, though. And then he’s back and with one swift motion he’s breaching Jud’s entrance and sinking all the way in.
It hurts like hell, but that feels right, cleansing. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you,” Wicks growls into his ear.
“I’m gonna destroy you,” Jud replies and might even believe it.
That makes Wicks laugh, and he begins to send his hips back and forth, fucking Jud right into the altar. Then there is another kiss right underneath his earlobe, tender almost. “So fucking perfect for me, my sweet boy. Just for me. I’m gonna take us out of this hellhole. Finally leaving all this shit behind. I'm gonna save you from them, keep you hidden away, just for me.”
The pain more and more subsides, making room for pleasure. He’s about to take hold of his cock, but Wicks' swatting his hand away. Instead, he takes Jud into his own hand, stroking him perfectly and pulling desperate moans right from his lips.
“No one is ever going to find us. You're mine.”
Jud can’t wait for it.