Author's Note: This is a tri-fic. Sister Jude/Monsignor/Sister Mary Eunice. Based upon Sister Jude's love for/her daydream of she and Timothy eating dinner. I decided to go with a different take upon that. I also need to give thanks to Anissa for helping with a bunch of things during my writing!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.
Their dinner that evening had been something that had been planned for quite a while, Jude would cook his favorite and he would join her in the kitchen. He had been to say mass that evening at his own parish, before he had sat down to dinner with the head of Briarcliff, his trusty right hand, Sister Jude. He had trusted her enough to leave the asylum in her capable hands while he continued his work around the diocese, with the community who needed a shepherd to guide them to wherever they needed to be taken in life. And now, here he was dining with his right hand, about to tell her of his visions, the future of his career in the Church. One that involved her, and Rome.
As the conversation began to build, discussing further visions of his future in the Catholic church, of Rome and how she would enjoy it there, Timothy watched as Jude moved her hand from underneath his, allowing her fingers to brush against his warm hand and travel along her chest to the buttons, firstly at her collar. Timothy gazed, witnessing the coal-like buttons slip through their respective button-holes, one by one. He was enchanted, how slow and sensual her movements were.
He didn't notice when it happened, but he watched as her hands separated the fabric, the pale and delicate skin against the black cloth of her habit. They reached up, and pulled away the wimple, her hair all tied up underneath before she pulled out the clip that held it up in place. Blonde hair tumbled down, cascading down her back in gentle waves as she tossed the black material away to the side, rejecting it. As she stood however, Timothy saw the red. A flash beneath the black habit, she had kept it hidden as the habit fell from her shoulders.
He watched as she allowed her fingers to trail down to the hem of the slip, raising it to reveal the delicate stocking there, and the clips they were attached to, holding them up against her thighs. As the slip rose, the more he saw of her creamy thighs, how pale her skin looked, even in the firelight, like porcelain or fine china. Snapping him from his reverie was her hand upon his shoulder, grasping there as she allowed her leg to raise, bent at the knee to situate herself in his lap. Timothy moved his hand over hers, feeling the skin beneath his palm as she lowered herself against him, bringing her other hand up to his other shoulder, resting there.
Timothy knew he didn't need to look into her face, merely inches from his own to confirm it was her. He knew it was. Sister Mary Eunice. The simple, always sunny, younger nun at Briarcliff. She was the baby there. He knew it was her atop of him, her skin, her body were nothing like Jude's. Younger, more pliable, delicate. He felt her grinding against him, and knew that this would not last long. As he moved his hand to her thigh, he was sure to unclip the stockings, as she made light work of his zipper.
It took less than a minute for her to be warmly impaled on him, the warmth that surrounded him caused his head to fall back in ecstasy. It was like nothing he had felt before. It was intoxicating. Timothy didn't know if the wine had interfered with his conscience or that he had finally broken and needed release, but here he was, breaking a vow that had remained sacred for the years he had been alive.
As she began to move against him, Timothy looked to her face, seeing how her lips were parted slightly, and her breath came in short bursts with each movement she made. She had, by now, moved her hands back to Timothy's shoulders, to help her keep balanced while she moved in his lap. His hands were at her waist, caressing her body through the thin layer of red satin and over one of her hands, holding it on his shoulder.
With her milky thighs moving against him, watching how her muscles flexed and contracted, Timothy knew he needed more. In one swift movement, he grabbed around her waist, keeping her close to him and lay her on the table. As he began to push into her, he felt that the angle was different, deeper. Timothy felt her arms move up, brushing against his torso before she wrapped them around his neck, pulling him down closer to her body, keeping the contact intimate. He didn't even think about whether this was her first time or not, she didn't seem to mind it at all.
Her hair was fanned out behind her head like a golden halo, as her body jerked upwards with each of his thrusts into her. Timothy felt her legs at his sides, moving with each thrust, he laid one hand upon her thigh, trailing down toward her hip and his other at her side, close to her breast. Through the delicately thin material of the slip, he saw her nipples peaking. His touch had caused them to do so. Everything he was doing, was causing her body to have a new reaction to his.
Timothy began to thrust harder now, sending her body reeling upwards with each push against her. He felt as her legs began to tighten at his sides, holding his body close to hers, her arms wrapped around him in an eternal embrace. Timothy could feel the pressure building within his groin as he continued to jerk into her, hearing the clatter as glasses and silverware began to knock against each other. He watched how her delicate features began to twist and screw up as the beginnings of ecstasy were building within her.
"Sister Jude, Doctor Arden says there's a matter of utter urgency...he sent for me to get you..." that gentle voice floated along the corridor, like a child seeking a playmate during a game of Hide 'n' Seek. And still, Timothy continued until he saw those features across the kitchen as opposed to beneath him, "Sister Jude...?" the blonde questioned, entering the kitchen and seeing her superiors in a very compromisable situation.
Sister Mary Eunice stood, mouth agape as she saw both Sister Jude and the Monsignor awestruck and obviously dismayed. The blonde didn't know where to avert her gaze however, and found it difficult to tear her eyes away from the two. She noticed how beetroot Timothy's cheeks had turned, in the short time she had been standing there. She swallowed and noticed the glare jude cast over her, quickly she bowed her head and cleared her throat.
"Sister..." it was Timothy who spoke up first, "You must understand..."
"Timothy..." Jude spoke, and Mary Eunice knew she was warning him, without even looking across to the couple, "Sister Mary Eunice, be sure to tell Doctor Arden that I will follow shortly. I have some business to attend with our good Monsignor."
"Yes, Sister Jude." Mary Eunice responded, like the obedient child she was. As she turned to leave, she glanced back at Timothy, he was gazing at her with an extremely confused expression before he turned back to Jude and bowed his head, awaiting the rapture that was to rain down upon him.
What had happened? Sister Jude had turned into Sister Mary Eunice. Was this a subconscious fact trying to gain his attention, trying to tell him something? Was there more to Mary Eunice than met the eye? All of the questions ran through Timothy's mind, and he couldn't concentrate on anything Jude was saying to him, it was all too much. He had turned water into wine, or had he turned wine into water? Finally though, he touched back to reality and turned to his right hand, "I'm sorry sister Jude. This should not have happened...I must find Sister Mary Eunice, she needn't have witnessed that."
"Timothy..." Jude began, resituating herself as she slipped off the table, "What about Rome...?"
Glancing back to Jude, Timothy swallowed and swiftly replied, "What about Rome...?" before he left, in search of the young nun.