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Rook hasn’t been on his knees in a church in a long time. He wasn’t raised Catholic so it’s not like it’s something he’s used to. He recalls a few brief moments, way back in his memories, kneeling alongside the other kids in his children’s worship group. Saying silly little prayers, a child talking to God like a friend. It’s been years and years.
This isn’t exactly the circumstance he thought he might bring him to knee once more.
He always imagined he might have clothes on.
And not be surrounded by other naked people.
“You have finally seen the light.” Joseph’s voice is soft, but it echoes here, in the empty church. It echoed before too, when the church was full of Peggies bristling with manic energy and devotion.
Joseph has a way of filling a space, even when that space has already been filled. Swelling until he’s the only thing there. But he’s not and he can’t quite do it this time, not when Rook’s eyes keep bouncing between him and John and Jacob. Three threats, no one less dangerous than the others.
But not dangerous to him. Not now.
That danger disappeared the second he got out of his car on Joseph’s island, walked towards the church with his hands up and all his guns and weapons in the trunk. There wasn’t any point. The brothers just wanted him. He would be enough of a distraction for the others to at least stop bleeding out in the streets. He’d already heard John’s promises, Jacob’s teases.
“We’ll let them go. But we want something in return.”
Rook’s always been annoyingly self-sacrificing, or so many people have told him. The sacrifice has never been so great before but...still.
Is it a sacrifice? He’s not bound, not in chains or by a haunting wail of a song he would’ve once found beautiful. His blood is rushing through his veins and his heart is pounding but that’s...anticipation. Not fear.
He’s not afraid of what the brothers are going to do to him. And that’s what’s scary about all this.
“We should’ve done this at the river.” John murmurs, stepping close enough to cup a hand over Rook’s cheek, swiping his thumb softly. “It would have been more fitting.”
“But not befitting.” Joseph counters.
An old argument then. Given how easy John gives up with a quiet sigh. Joseph wanders closer as well, head tipped just enough that Rook knows the words aren’t for him.
“You will baptize him. It will still be your duty to complete. But he is different and thus...so should this be.”
Whatever those words mean, they seem to ease John. Which almost makes Rook want to groan and roll his eyes. He really doesn’t want to be shoved down into the water with hands around his throat again. The Bliss makes it hard enough to breathe--thankfully there’s a suspicious lack of it here, like Joseph’s chosen few on the island are so far gone in their mania they no longer need it.
But there’s a bend to John’s brow, like he’s still not pleased. A kid getting a healthy snack before bedtime instead of the treat they’d been asking for. Acquiescing to the wants of others. Which means a river dunk might not be in Rook’s immediate future.
Thank god.
Or maybe not, depending on how all this goes.
“What are you going to do to me?”
It’s a fair question, Rook assures himself. He’s naked in a church surrounded by cult leaders. He has every right to know the play by play he’s sure the brothers planned out way in advance of him realizing the only way everyone else went free is if he doesn’t.
“You will be cleansed.” John’s in preacher mode, something that’s almost more grating than Joseph’s raving. “You will be stripped of what you once were and claimed by us. Under God, here in this church. Made ours and marked thusly.”
His smile is dark and his eyes are somehow darker.
“Almost like a marriage, wouldn’t you say?”
Rook wants to point out that that’s not really how marriage works. And he’s pretty sure Joseph, for all his belief, hasn’t actually been to seminary school. So it’s not like they could actually marry him to one of them.
But who the fuck knows. John’s got a fancy law degree, he probably went on a coked up bender in college and got himself ordained or something stupid like that.
It’d be just Rook’s luck.
He refrains from any of his snippy comments, though, because Jacob’s taken his position at Rook’s right. And he’s pretty sure any sass is going to get him stepped on again, probably something a little more sensitive than his hand this time.
Jacob isn’t wearing his boots though. So it would probably hurt far less. Maybe. More than likely.
“Can I get an explanation without the weird doublespeak and innuendos?” Rook asks a bit desperately, trying to stop his mind from thinking about Jacob stepping on him.
As it turns out, some parts of him don’t mind the idea. And he’s really not ready to delve into the darker parts of whatever psychosexual issues he has when it comes to Jacob when he’s naked and also eye level with the man’s cock.
It is, he admits, a very impressive cock. They’re all pretty impressive below the waist. And thankfully not nearly as bushy as the beards would lead him to believe. Which makes him think about John twisting and turning in a big mirror trying to shape his pubes into something appealing and--alright. That’s enough of that.
“Please?” He pleads.
“You will wear our mark. You will be soaked in everything that we are. Claimed completely by us. And then you will belong to us.”
Alright, apparently Joseph is totally cool with approaching the psychosexual aspect right now. It’s not like Rook could really misinterpret that, not with how John’s already starting to get hard just staring at him, cock twitching between his thighs.
Is this some weird Eden’s Gate initiation ritual? Do they take some of the come and paint it red and then that’s the stupid cross on the VIP's foreheads?
If so, Rook feels much better about using said cross as a target. Because that’s just…
Something must show on his face, he knows he’s grinding his teeth, because John’s hand snaps out and fists the longer portion of hair on the top of his head. Pulls tight until Rook’s tipping his head back and digging his fingernails into his thighs to resist reaching up and smacking him away.
“This is a gift.” He snaps, eyes just as intense as when he ripped open Rook’s shirt in his bunker. “You are the first, the only to receive such an initiation. And you will not--”
“He gets it, John.”
Rook never thought he’d be thankful to have Jacob around. But John’s fingers uncurl immediately, slip out of the strands. Jacob pets them back down, like he’s some precious dog, the smile on his face spelling nothing good in the flash of teeth and the way it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“He’ll behave for us. Won’t you?”
Well, it’s not like he’s in a position to say no.
Joseph steps closer, just a bit, but it must be a sign of some sort. John and Jacob reach for their cocks, their pace nothing alike. Jacob works his cock like it’s a chore, like it’s rote by now. Like this is boring. But he’s still staring at Rook with heat in those ice blue eyes and that’s...something to consider.
John relishes in touching himself. Cups his balls, thumbs over the slit in the head. For someone who punishes others for their lust, John certainly doesn’t seem to mind basking in it himself. His feet twitch, settle wider, and Rook would just bet that alone, if John does this alone, his fingers wander elsewhere too.
The image of John, face down on his knees, fingers buried inside himself as he ruts into his hand, makes Rook’s own cock twitch against his thigh and he shakes his head quickly. Like he can Etch-A-Sketch the image away.
He’s definitely going to get off to his later. He’s accepted that about himself. But he really doesn’t want them to know that. Rook’s got enough hanging over his head already, one more sin carved into isn’t something he wants to have to deal with.
Joseph is...cautious. Like each touch could threaten to overwhelm. Rook understands, a bit, if Joseph really is the paragon people imagine him to be then doing something as base as jacking off doesn’t fit his image. He’s already leaking, fingers dragging the wetness down his length, muscles in his hips and stomach flexing and jumping like he’s being electrocuted.
A part of Rook wants to open his mouth. Lean forwards. Reach his hands up, on little more than instinct. He’s never had someone jack off in front of his face when he wasn’t expected to be a willing and active participant before. It would either go one of two ways; he’d get a mouthful of whatever cock he managed to get ahold of first, or John would pull a knife from nowhere and carve Lust into somewhere stupid like his forehead.
Needless to say, he abstains. Though it’s more difficult than he imagined it would be.
“C’mere.” Jacob grits first, hands more gentle in Rook’s hair than John’s were, tugging him into a lean just as the first stripe paints itself across the bridge of his nose.
Jacob doesn’t make much noise when he comes, one soft sigh as Rook tries to avoid getting anything in his eye. He does grin, though, just a touch flushed and chest pumping when Rook’s gaze lingers on the bit still clinging to the tip of his thick cock.
“S’only fair. All over you and inside.”
Jacob’s hand moves, slides down, thumb pressing on his bottom lip until Rook obediently opens for him. It’s something too close to intimate, the way Jacob stares him down as he rubs the last drop of come onto his tongue. Feeds it to him, in essence. And Rook doesn’t know if he’s supposed to swallow it or keep it on his tongue because John makes a choked noise and Jacob shoves him back to rights just in time.
Because he’s still sitting like an idiot with his maw gaping open, a lot of John’s gets on his tongue. A suspicious amount. Like John was aiming for it, like he knew what Jacob would do before he did it.
Rook doesn’t hold it in his mouth this time, swallows thickly as John shudders and shakes, hand braced on his shoulder so he doesn’t fall. The last bit gets into his hair--which is going to be a bitch to get out if it dries--and John smirks, like that was all part of the plan too.
Joseph is last and Rook’s shocked he held out as long as he did. What he’s not shocked by is that Joseph urges him in close. Grips onto his temples and drags him forward until he’s rutting against Rook’s face, knees skidding across the floor and hands falling to Joseph’s thighs. He gets a lot of it in Rook’s hair--bitches, all of them, they’d better give him a shower after this--and it drips down, until Rook’s got one eye firmly closed when he’s finally released back.
“Perfection,” Joseph says softly, out of breath, fingers under his chin to tip his head up so they can admire their handiwork.
Jacob rumbles his approval and John’s face looks like he just saw God and Rook is not going to get hard right now. He’s not. Even in the face of such obvious adoration, which has always been a huge turn on for him.
Fuck.
“Jacob, John.” Joseph’s clearly noticed, eyes dipping briefly as a smile curls his mouth and he steps back. “We wouldn’t want Rook to feel unwelcome.”
Jacob has callouses that rub just right but John had the foresight to spit into his hand before he grabbed ahold of Rook’s cock and he’s not sure which of them he likes more at the moment. Not that he can think of much, hands gripping and grasping at their shoulders, nails clawing at skin as they work him over. Jacob drifts lower, rolls his balls in his palm for a brief moment before lower still, pressing dry against Rook’s hole just hard enough his hips jump into John’s hand.
“Sensitive.” He rumbles, close to pleased. “You’re gonna be fun.”
“You’ll let me fuck you,” John says, hand tightening down until it feels like he’s trying to milk Rook’s come out of his cock. “You’ll let me, and it will be glorious. I’m going to put all of my sins inside you and you’re going to spill yours out for me.”
“That’s not how it--”
Rook can’t get the sentence out before Jacob pushes in. It’s dry and it chafes but it’s good, it’s enough to tip him over the edge, scratching so deep into both of them he’s sure he’s drawn blood as he spills over John’s knuckles. He’s barely shaken through it, aftershocks still tightening the muscles around his hips, when both of their hands disappear. Leaving only Joseph as he kneels in front of him with a bowl of water and a rag.
“You are ours now.” He says, proclaims, as he drags the rag over the mess on Rook’s face. “We have made you ours, made a space for you in our family. There was always something missing. And God gave it to us.”
“You’re insane.” Rook can’t help but say, blurt out, but it doesn’t seem to bother Joseph as he hums, dips the cloth and comes back for another pass.
“Perhaps I am. But it matters little. No matter what I am, you belong to me now. To Jacob and John as well. We have marked the promise in something more than blood.”
He hesitates, rag sunk into the murky water, glances up so suddenly Rook’s struck dumb. He’s seen Joseph in the middle of a religious fervor, preaching about the upcoming end of the world. He’s seen him rage against those who would try and stop him. Nothing comes close to the fire in his eyes now as he cups Rook’s face and forces him to meet his gaze.
“And nothing will ever take you from us again.”