Johnny made short work of Eugene's belt, shoving his pants down around his thighs so the material bit into his skin, and then his spit-slick fingers were working their way into Eugene's body. Gritting his teeth, Eugene bowed his head, instinctively fighting the intrusion. When Johnny was buried in him to the knuckle, slowly working in and out as he murmured empty praise to the back of Eugene's head, the stretch and burn gave way to pleasure. Eugene pushed back, desperate, and Johnny obliged him, working in deeper, rubbing at his insides with calloused fingertips until Eugene was gasping and writhing against him, starbursts exploding in his vision. Every other thought fled him as his body was reduced sheer wanting. Under his sweating palms, the Bible's pages grew damp, clinging to his skin. The words swam before his eyes as the ink blurred.

Behind him, Johnny unbuckled his own belt one-handed, and when he pressed in close, skin to skin, he burned hot as a brand. Eugene planted the heels of his hands against the pulpit and shoved back onto his fingers one last time before Johnny pulled them out and pushed himself in. The vaulted ceiling echoed with their groans, the sound only dying away when the rot swallowed it.

"Say my name," Johnny whispered, bracing his arms around Eugene to grab hold of the pulpit.

They were pressed together all the way down, Johnny's chest against Eugene's back, his feet in between Eugene's on the swollen wood floor. He rocked into him with maddening, minute thrusts of his hips, and Eugene let the rhythm rock him forward, flattening him further against the Bible until his cheek was pressed to the page. Shutting his eyes, his hair hanging limp in his face as his glasses dug into the bridge of his nose, he panted out Johnny's name again and again until it didn't sound like a name anymore, and Johnny's whispers didn't sound like any language he knew. Pleasure pooled in his stomach, hot and indistinguishable from anxiety, and when he came, it was with a shock of dread that made him cry out. Johnny worked his hand around to Eugene's front, stroking him off until it hurt and Eugene was squirming, trying to escape his touch. Johnny came a moment later, bowing his head to press his forehead to Eugene's nape, kissing and biting the skin.

After an eternity, he straightened, and Eugene fought to regain his composure. His heart was racing, not with pleasure but with a bone-deep sense of wrongness. Under his cheek, the Bible's pages were stained black, and when he lifted his head, his face felt wet. He rubbed it with the cuff of his shirt and the material came away dark. When Johnny pulled out with a satisfied groan, Eugene could feel the mess sliding down his thighs. He pulled his pants up with trembling fingers, and then, without Johnny supporting him, sank slowly to the floor. Johnny watched him for a moment before following suit, and Eugene was too distracted trying to catch his breath to shift away. The stained-glass saints gazed down on them in jealousy or indifference. He and Johnny sat shoulder to shoulder, their legs stretched out before them like discarded rag dolls.