Summary: My friends keep telling me that I am a cruel person for not “allowing” Judas and Jesus an opportunity to resolve their sexual tension in my JCS fanfics. So, in this stand-alone fic, we find out what happens if Jesus and Judas “go too far.” This story IS NOT in the same “universe” as my other JCS stories, but it‘s still inspired by the 2000 movie with Jerome Pradon as Judas. Jesus/Judas. Contains slash!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Jesus Christ Superstar, nor do I own The Bible. This story contains slash! This story depicts biblical persons as homosexual (I don‘t believe it‘s true historically, but this is how I interpret the 2000 movie version of Jesus Christ Superstar). Do not read this story if such ideas offend you.
There. A touch on the shoulder. Does he feel it? Does he know?
Does he feel for me even one-tenth of what I feel for him?
Why does Judas behave this way?
It is a pointless question; I know very well why he behaves this way.
Just as I know that I can never give him what he wants.
And if I want the same thing?
Well, that doesn’t matter, either.
* * *
I wanted Simon Zealotes to go away. He ranted about war, and it upset Jesus.
I also wouldn’t have minded it if Peter went away. He was the perpetually calm peacemaker, interrupting my fights with Jesus, putting an end to any possibility of make-up sex.
Sex, both make-up sex and otherwise, was out of the question for Jesus and me. He made that clear quite early on. And I had complied, thus far. Not because there was anything wrong with our feelings, but because I refused to be responsible for the inevitable self-loathing Jesus would feel if he betrayed his childlike beliefs.
But I couldn’t help but wonder what Jesus really felt...
* * *
“I’m not asking you to do anything, Christ! I just want you to admit that you think about it sometimes.”
“Alright, Judas; I admit it! I’m curious! But that doesn‘t change the reality of what God expects of me, and of us.”
I knew that my voice betrayed the frustration I felt, and I was afraid that Judas would use my weak human nature to his advantage. Instead, he looked at me with sympathy.
“I know what it’s like to force yourself to live up to the expectations of others,” Judas said, sitting down next to me on the bench. “Of course, for me, it was my father who dictated his expectations.”
“Well, that’s the same for me,” I laughed bitterly.
Judas furrowed his brow in confusion.
“I thought you said God, not Joseph.”
“Never mind,” I muttered.
* * *
Jesus had never permitted me to kiss him; he said he was afraid of what might happen if we went “too far.”
But, now that Jesus had confessed that he had only taken a vow of celibacy because he thought that Godrequired it, I was eager to show him exactly what would happen if we went too far.
I fully realized that Jesus would be reluctant at first, afraid that he was doing something sinful. But I also knew, at last, that he wanted this; he only needed to be reassured that sexuality was as natural as any other aspect of humanity.
Judas seemed to be slowly edging his way closer to me on the bench, as if he hoped I would not notice. His efforts at subtlety were all in vain, of course; it was impossible not to notice Judas, with his black leather jacket, and with his seemingly overconfident swagger which I aloneknew hid a deep self-hatred. He was a fool to think I wouldn’t notice him as he moved closer to me, but I did not react, until our thighs were almost touching. Only then did I attempt to scoot away from him.
But, to my surprise, his hand moved quickly to my knee, a tight and desperate grasp.
“No,” Judas hissed, sharply as a snake. “Don’t move away. Why do you deny yourself?”
“You said you would not ask me to do anything, as long as I was honest with you,” I reminded him.
“Your voice shakes, and your entire body is trembling,” Judas remarked, maintaining his firm grip upon my knee. “This could mean one of two things. You’re either afraid of me, or you’re afraid of giving into your own desires. And I know you have no reason to be afraid of me...”
“Well, you have been prone to fits of violence,” I reminded him.
Finally, he let go of my knee and stood up.
“You know very well I would never force you to do anything!” he spat. “Why are you so cruel? Why do you insult me?”
I felt as though I was watching a petulant child, and a great sadness overtook my heart. I had the strange sense that Judas was not truly meant for this world, and I ached for him.
“I’m sorry, Judas,” I sighed. “I didn’t mean to insult you; I know you would never harm me.”
“Then, let me at least give your shoulders a massage. You let Mary massage your shoulders; so, why not me?”
“Because...” I began hesitantly. “I do not feel for Mary what I feel for you. And I don’t want us to go too far.”
“’Too far, too far,’” Judas repeated in a singsong voice. “I won’t go any farther than you permit.”
I felt his hands on my shoulders, firmly kneading my tense muscles. This was a mistake; I needed to tell him to stop. But his hands felt so strong, and so sensual, I could not bring this to an end.
My body was responding to Judas’ touch, forbidden areas hardening. It was too late, and I was too far-gone; I could not put an end to this, not now.
Here I was, touching Jesus, caressing him, and he was not ordering me to stop. I heard his breathing quicken, saw the bulge in his khaki pants... I had never expected things to go so far, and there wasn’t a chance of me not taking advantage of this moment...
Slowly, tentatively, Judas’ hand drifted down the front of my body, until it reached the part that throbbed, almost painfully now.
I knew that my Father must be disgusted by all of this, but I could not help myself. The sensation of Judas massaging my manhood was more than I could bear, yet more than I could resist.
When he unzipped my pants, I came to my senses, and clumsily swatted his hand away.
“Let me love you,” Judas whispered. “You don’t have to do anything; just stand up, and bend over the bench.”
Bewitched by Judas’ raw sexuality, I complied...
Was it really possible? For once, was Jesus truly listening to me, actually doing what I said?
Yes, he was... And it was the most perfect moment he could have chosen.
Judas entered me from behind, and there was a great pain, but pleasure quickly followed, as I felt his hand reach around to grasp my manhood.
As he thrust into me, more gently than I would have expected, he stroked me. I had often dreamed of such a moment, but my fantasies were no match for reality.
I felt the tension, the heat, building up inside of me...
As I heard the passion of Jesus’ moans increase, I hastened my pace inside of him. And, when I felt his seed spill into my hand, I could hold back no longer.
I emptied myself inside of him, collapsing against him, kissing the spot just between his shoulder blades.