Still, in the comfort of his own bed, with tanned legs draped on either side of his thighs, colorful tattoos etched in the outline of sunlight that catches just right, Friday finds it hard to move. Finds it hard to convince himself that spending the evening preaching about someone elses god is more pressing than being his God. Thinks maybe instead he should pull his silver cross necklace off of Jack’s tongue and replace it with something heavier and needier.
Jack could have stayed this way for the rest of eternity, serving his God, festivals be damned. He needed this, ached for this, and though he knew that there would always be time for more worship there was still a distinct thread of annoyance at the thought of letting go. He knew though that Friday had things to do. Preparations for the coming onslaught of the flock. He himself had fulfillments to meet for tonight's extracurricular festivities. Excitement made him feel as if he were strung tight, ready to burst at any moment.
Though, what was a few more minutes?
A smile pulled at the sides of Friday’s mouth, one meant only for his most devotional of parishioners. He tugged at the chain and Jack came, easy like water, pliant and eager for anything his God may have asked from him. Friday would never admit it, but this was his favorite version of Jack, lost in the heaven they created between the two of them behind closed doors. Oh sure, they got up to plenty doors be damned, but this was different. This was reverence.
“Don’t you have to get ready for work?” he whispered in Jack’s ear, as if he didn’t already know the answer, as if Jack didn’t work for him. As if Jack’s whole world didn’t revolve around him.
"Fuck," Jack couldn't help the whispered groan from slipping out. He tightened his mouth around the metal cross, the sharp edges biting into the soft flesh of his mouth. He leaned into Friday, writhing against him, shivering from each point of contact.
"I'd rather stay here, with you," Jack mumbled around the cross, face pressed to the crook of Fridays neck, mouthing at the skin there. Tasting Friday, his sweat. He was overwhelmed by him, his everything. Did they really have to get out of bed? It already felt like tonight would last forever. A fun forever perhaps, but still forever.
It was no secret that Friday would rather stay too. That, if given the option, he would leave the church in Costance’s hands and lock himself away to die in his own temple. Years later their bones would be found by archaeologists who would name them the new Lovers of Modena.
Jack’s mouth on him was a temptation he could give into, it was well practiced in the places that could bring Friday down to a level closer to Man than Holy Spirit. He slides a hand up Jack’s back, slow, then tangles his fingers into thick dark curls and pulls. It’s a miracle, really, that he manages to touch Jack like that and not fuck him again, even as his tongue draws a path across the brown skin of Jack’s arched neck. When their mouths meet, it’s in a heated, dirty, open mouthed kiss, with tongues that work around the edges of a cross before Friday pulls back, stealing the silver with his teeth and letting it drop against his chest.
“I’ll wear you out,” he says, and takes Jack’s left hand in his to pull the ring from his finger. It, and his matching one, drop on a bible sitting on their bedside table. He can’t be a Soto, tonight. The church demands a Knapp.
“Never,” Jack replies with a soft grin, but he reluctantly relents, they would have plenty of time after tonight anyways - they would always have time. Jack leaned in for a last kiss, nipping at Friday’s lower lip before finally pulling away. There was work to be done after all, and Jack had no intentions of disappointing anyone tonight. He rolled to one side of the bed, stretching out as he went. Relaxing only for a moment into a sprawl before he gathered himself enough to get up.
“I’ve got big plans for tonight,” Jack commented offhandedly as he went, lightly teasing ”It’ll be quite the view.” Halloween would always be his favorite holiday, if only because he could wear the least amount of clothes in public. Nobody blinked an eye when Jack went out half undressed, costume often so skimpy that it left him at the mercy of a potential flashing incident.
Friday grinned, sharp. Plenty of people would pass through Jack’s arms that night, and by the time he was Friday’s again, there would likely be nothing left of his costume. That was fine though, work was work, and Friday had no doubt in his mind just who Jack had given his soul to. Who he shared his body with was of little worth, in comparison. They got ready separately; Jack showering although Friday didn’t bother. If the smell of sex lingered, the only members of his flock that would dare bring it up smelled the same.
He gathered up the last few things he would need for the evening, double checked to make sure his collar was straight, and circled by Jack once more just to say he was leaving. He leaned close to his husband, pressing their foreheads together in their typical separation before saying, “See you later, Jack Rabbit.”