morbid

Copia had been marked long before Perpetua had the chance to lay his own claim to his twin. Stolen.

Something uncoiled, writhed in Perpetua’s gut the more he stewed on it.

Some sick part of him knew that they were always fated to be entangled in each other like this; in blood, in flesh, in each other’s sheets.

The fine point of Perpetua’s nail twirled around the thick curled hairs of his twin’s chest, lazily circling at the dimpled skin of his nipple, at the rotating 666 tattoo above his heart. A pledge of eternal loyalty to their Dark Lord. Maybe part of an initiation rite. Perpetua had never been certain, never asked.

But he hadn’t been asked to partake in any similar ritual. The close examination of the corpses of his predecessors showed no sign of the mark on their torsos, nor could he find it branding any of the ghouls, the clergy rank and file.

Perpetua couldn’t understand why it…bothered him. He’d known of it, of its meaning and importance to his brother, to the Ministry. But it’s pride of place over Copia’s left breast, just above his heart…

Mine.

How vulnerable he lay here beside him, dressed in little save the sheets and the afterglow of their shared sin. Even in this half-asleep state, he reacted to Perpetua’s every touch, the drag and pinch of his nails on plush, warm skin. His twin whimpered so sweetly. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Copia’s resting face, intoxicated watching every little gasp and hitched breath slip passed his lips as Perpetua’s clawed hand ventured lower over his belly.

The claws–his claws–had been one of the first things he’d adopted since his arrival, an added layer of safety to his new environment. The Ministry indulged him in this bit of image making, incorporating it in his official appearances. The fine silver plate he wore with his papal robes. The long, scissor-like blades with some suits. Even under his plain leather gloves, he wore his nails in their fine manicured points, painted black. Before he could grow his own to such lengths, having kept them bitten down to the quick for as long as he could remember, he took to wearing the glue-on acrylic kind.

He didn’t need such tricks now, he thought with a hum, teasing gooseflesh up along Copia’s arm.

With a closed-eyed grumble, Copia stirred just enough to pull Perpetua into his arms, mumbling a “C’mere, Pet” and pressing hazy kisses into his hair. Perpetua couldn’t resist the cradle of his arms, the way his head fit perfectly in the space against his brother’s soft chest and shoulder.

They’d been made for this, he thought, ear pressed to Copia’s chest, listening to the steady thump thump thump of his heart. Made for each other. Once, they’d shared this.

One heartbeat.

One flesh.

He’d been stolen away too.

Nearly fifty years had separated them since; distance and religion and their own faulty childhood memories dividing them further.

When had they fallen so out of sync? When did their breathing fall out of rhythm? Whose heart had skipped out of time?

All Perpetua wanted, craved, was the safety of their union–to crawl into the space just beneath Copia’s ribs, to bury his claws into supple flesh and dig until warm and sticky in the viscera as they were joined back together. To mend the festering wound where they’d been so cruelly torn apart. To feast upon each other, let it fill the void within and be reborn anew. As someone else, something else.

This could never be. Of course.

Perpetua mindlessly traced an imagined line connecting the freckles along his twin’s shoulder, admiring the smudged facepaint along Copia’s jaw, down along his neck as it trailed off into a peppering of red and purpling love bites.

What had it been like before in the amniotic warmth of the womb, intertwined like this, safe in each other's embrace? No higher loyalties than their shared blood binding them?

No one could deny him this, he thought, this sick need to possess the other half of his soul. He’d long felt incomplete, an unnameable absence gnawing within him. Perhaps his old God–that Good and Loving God–uncaring of how he’d suffered, of how he’d tried to rend himself into something worthy of salvation, had already seen him damned.

Straddling Copia’s bare torso, Perpetua traced that Devil’s mark again with his fore- and middle fingers. His mark of fealty to Satan, to the Ministry and their mission.

To a family–a mother–Perpetua barely knew.

Why not to him, to his Papa?

Pressing tentatively into the skin earned a low hum until the razor’s edge of his claws broke through into a dark trickle of blood at the top of the mark. Perpetua couldn’t help his own reverent gasp as Copia’s eyes snapped open, a helpless grunt of pain escaped him as he floundered about for anything coherent.

He tried to sit up but Perpetua’s free hand at his shoulder eased him back down to the bed, nails digging into flesh when Copia tried to seize his wrist. A warning.

“Shh, it’s just me,” Perpetua cooed, pressing kisses to his twin’s stricken face. “You’re okay, it’s okay.”

“What the f–?” Copia tried to cry out but the sudden downward drag of claw tearing into his chest caught his voice in his throat, choked out into a strangled sob as Perpetua carved through his tattoo.

Dark blood oozed from the jagged wound around his fingers, tangling into the coarse hair around his brother’s chest.

Perpetua pressed their foreheads together, mismatched eyes wide and unwavering into Copia’s own as he breathlessly whispered, “I need you, Cardi. I need us to–”

Without another word, Copia nodded, lips trembling as his twin kissed him all along the beginning hints of stubble across his jaw. Tears slipped down his cheeks in silent torrents but the twitching of something against Perpetua’s ass only pushed him further into whatever reverie he had succumbed to.

Perpetua ran his tongue along the side of his face, lapping up every bit of salt with a pleased hum as he finished his work with a final upwards swipe, cleaving the tattoo apart.

His own arousal dripped translucent down his thighs as he slid his clawed nails free from the bloody V now carved above his lover’s heart. His twin whimpered at the loss of his fingers, joining him in admiring the sight.

It was rough work, uneven in a way that would bother Perpetua down the line. But for now, he marveled at the sight of his initial in Copia’s flesh as it wept blood down his breast from the broken sigil. His mark a further unholy desecration upon his brother’s body as he righted one of the many wrongs in their life now reunited. His claim upon his brother.

Mine, mine, mine.

His tdick throbbed in rhythm with the panicked racing of his heart. Cradling his hand, he pulled his trembling fingers still sticky with his brother’s blood into his eager mouth, desperate to not waste a single drop. The savory essence blossomed onto his tongue, richer than anything he’d ever tasted before. It dribbled down his chin as he moaned around his fingers like a starved man sucking at the last bits of a bone’s marrow.

More.

Copia stared up at him, dark-eyed, greying hair sweat-plastered to his forehead. Perfectly pliant beneath him and watching, every bit the cornered prey.

Perpetua leaned into Copia’s neck, lips hovering down along the fluttering pulse of his jugular to his collarbone, going in for the kill.

“You’re so beautiful,” Copia murmured, voice somewhere far away despite how close they were.

Perpetua placed a wet kiss just above the bloody opening and Copia shuddered out an anticipatory breath. “I know.”

Dipping his tongue into the warm, wet heat of the wound made them both keen at the sensation. Yet Perpetua tongued deeper, as deep as the wound would allow, savoring the metallic sweetness of his brother’s slit.

His spittle and blood-slicked fingers found their way between his own thighs, teasing at his aching length before slipping into his cunt.

Copia’s whimpering only made him grind harder into his palm. What sweet noises he could force out of his twin, just for him, only for him…

Perpetua leaned forward to force their lips together in a clumsy pressing of faces before growling and forcing Copia to sit up with him. “You’re mine, yeah?”

Copia nodded mutely.

Perpetua grabbed his face. “Noo, say it.”

“I’m yours,” Copia breathed, forcing out the words through his brother’s frenzied grasp, through the stinging pain in his chest. “I’m all yours, Pet.”

Perpetua shook his head with a playful pout, fingers still pumping in and out of himself, mixing his slick with his twin’s own blood. “Try again, angel. What’s my name?”

Copia squared his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. “Papa.”

It almost felt cruel, but fuck if it didn’t feel so good to force him to say it, to make him speak truth to the reality he’d denied for so long, that he still tried to side-step like a crack in the pavement.

“Fuck.” Perpetua bit his lip, tried to muffle the rising pitch of his moans as he trembled beneath his own touch. It embarrassed him how such a small concession could tease him over the edge.

“Please,” Copia pleaded and reached for him. “Let me–”

Perpetua shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Papa, please…” Copia tried again. “Let me at least taste you.”

Perpetua stopped, tried to catch his breath. “You want a taste, hm?”

Copia nodded as if his life depended on it, as if he didn’t have his lips locked with his brother’s cunt soon he would suffer a truly horrible fate, the only known antidote to his affliction.

“Yeah?” Perpetua nodded along teasingly. “Alright, open up. Don’t be shy…”

After a pause, his twin closed his eyes and obediently opened his mouth, sticking out his warm, wet tongue like a penitent waiting for communion. His Papa obliged, placing his slick, wet fingers against his tongue. His tongue swirled around them, taking in the sweet taste of his pre before taking Perpetua’s long, delicate fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Good boy,” Perpetua cooed. He freed his fingers from his brother’s greedy lips, and Copia glanced up at him from under his lashes in expectation.

“Open,” he ordered once more. Copia obeyed.

Gripping his jaw open, Perpetua tongued a string of bloody spittle into his awaiting mouth before forcing it closed. He knew he didn’t need to go through all the extra trouble as Copia eagerly swallowed every bit with a closed-eye reverence, as if it were an unholy sacrament binding them together. A shudder shot down Perpetua’s spine at the thought.

Mine. The thought crept to life within him, kept churning ‘round with every punch of breath from his lungs. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Insatiable, Perpetua sealed their union with a kiss, forcing his tongue into his twin’s mouth to steal a taste of this back and forth comingling.

He felt ablaze, almost fearing Copia would burn himself from the bruising grip he kept on his hips. But he didn’t pull away–couldn’t–as if they were fused together in this moment.

Reaching behind himself, Perpetua finally started to stroke Copia’s long abandoned cock, the poor thing weeping at the sudden attention lavished upon it. Copia keened into his brother’s touch, how those strong, slender digits worked his girth at an inhumane pace. His hips bucked out of sync as curses and pleas poured from his lips like tears, almost incoherent.

“‘Please,’ what?” Perpetua teased, amazed at how slick his fingers had become in so little time. “Too much? Need me to stop?”

“No!” Copia wailed, mismatched eyes wide. “No, I-I–” His eyes rolled to the back of his head with the swipe of Perpetua’s thumb circling over his tip, pulling a long out groan from somewhere deep within him. The heft of his cock pulsed in his brother’s hand.

“Can I–?”

“Mhm?”

“-ah!”

“Yeah?”

“-inside?”

Perpetua grinned, giddy, almost drunk on the sensation as he leaned Copia back down onto the mattress. Stealing one last uncoordinated kiss, Perpetua lifted his hips, maneuvering to line Copia up with his entrance. Foreheads pressed together, they watched as the head of his cock teased between his folds lost in those damp curls before disappearing within him altogether, filling him completely.

A shuddering sigh escaped the both of them at their reunion, Perpetua fully seated in Copia’s lap.

Relief.

A grand design for two pieces to so perfectly slot together nearly sixty years in the making.

Once, Perpetua found a steady pace, he placed a hand on Copia’s chest to steady himself, over the wound, where he’d stolen back his own twin, his own heart. Copia’s fingers laced together with his and squeezed.

Copia stumbled up to his office, groggy, not at all looking forward to yet another day of the never-ending paperwork. He pushed open the door and sat heavily in his chair, sighing. He reached for a pen and noticed a new book on his desk: A green leather binder, almost so full that it wouldn't stay closed. There was a note taped to the cover, in familiar, elegant script: 

"Happy Valentine's Day to my darling little boy. Mama loves you!" 

Nervously, he opened the book and began looking through it. His eyes widened when he realized what it was: An album, containing years- nay, decades, of photos of Sister Imperator. Many at the front were Polaroids featuring both her and Nihil, and seeing them together sent a pang of jealousy through Copia. Nihil had known her so much longer than he had, and even been her favorite for a time… but not now. Imperator always made sure her baby boy knew she loved him most.

He kept going, feeling himself harden more with every page he turned. Some photos, he noticed, were labeled: 

"Backstage, Chicago 1969" was particularly interesting to him. He stared for longer than he cared to admit at his poor mother, bent over a storage box, cum leaking out of both ruined holes. Her thighs were stained, too, and he could just make out a bloody bite mark on her shoulder… So that's where she got that scar. 

He turned the page again, heart leaping when he saw a few more angles of the photo that had so captivated him. The photographer must've been particularly fond of her face and chest, as there were numerous photos from a variety of distances. He whimpered at the tightness of his pants as he pulled one out of the album to look closer. 

Imperator's face and chest was covered in cum, mascara leaving tracks on her teary face. Her eyes were dazed and blissful, and the closer he looked, the more bruises he found. On her puffy lips, their makeup smeared off long ago, and her breasts, too, were covered in angry purple splotches. 

Copia was equally fascinated and disgusted, wondering how, why, anyone would be so rough with Imperator… He couldn't fathom using anything short of the utmost tenderness when touching her. 

He became distracted by another scribble, this time in Nihil's childish handwriting: 

"Trying for a baby." 

And below it, added many years later by Imperator: 

"Conception of the twins." 

The next pages of photos were all of Imperator's pregnancy. Most of them showed her lounging in bed, nude, bulging belly and swollen breasts on full display. Sometimes her hands were on her stomach, holding it… holding him. His heart fluttered and dick throbbed as he gazed at her, at them. He was more desperate than ever to be inside Imperator now, wishing for a moment to crawl back into her womb… 

No, he decided. This arrangement was better, as he didn't have to share. Now, despite being a twin, mama was all his. 

Nestled between her nudes were a handful of photos of when she'd given birth. These, again, were labeled. 

"Baby one- Hurt like hell." 

"Waiting on its brother." And, just below, she added: "He wanted some alone time with mama… He'll be my baby forever." 

"Crowning! Baby Copia almost here." 

The last photo was of Imperator holding him to her chest, beaming as he suckled, his twin napping in a bassinet nearby. 

"Welcome, Copia! Mama loves you!" 

The rest of the photos were more of his mother either before or after sex, but the birth photos stayed with him. 

"Mama loves you." 

And getting to be the one who spent time alone in mama… he couldn't deny, it was thrilling. It was right. 

Inside of mama was right where he belonged. 

There came a soft knock on his office door and he hurriedly slammed the book shut, grabbing a pen and trying to look busy. 

"Baby?" Imperator cooed, pushing into his office. 

"Mama!" Copia quickly stood to hug her, freezing when he glanced down and noticed the wet spot on his suit trousers. 

"Looks like someone's been enjoying their gift…" 

"Ah… uh, yes…" Copia blushed a deep red, staring down at the floor. 

"Sit, show mama what seeing her does to you…" 

Copia sat back behind his desk and timidly undid his pants, whimpering as Imperator gently ran her thumb over his cock. 

"What was your favorite photo?" She asked, gazing softly into his eyes.

"Us… when you were pregnant…" 

"I love those, too." 

"Ma…" 

"What, sweet boy?" 

"Want… want to be inside you…" 

"Of course, sweetheart." Imperator made a show of removing her skirt and panties, tops of her stockings digging into her thighs, garter belt snug aroung her plush waist. Copia timidly pressed on her soft, wrinkled stomach as she sank down onto his cock, chuckling softly at his desperate whimper. 

"There. Safe and sound in mama." 

She sat quietly in his lap, rubbing her hands gently over his chest, feeling his cock twitch and jump at her tiniest movements. Soon, despite how hard she'd tried to be still, he came with a soft whimper, squeezing her hips. 

"I'm… I'm sorry…" 

"Shh, baby. I know you can't help it, it just feels so good to be in mama, doesn't it?" 

"It does…" 

"We'll have to do it again later, then, won't we?" 

Copia rested his cheek against his mother's chest, nodding. 

It was no secret that Copia had always been a mama's boy. So now… home from touring, he wanted nothing more than to snuggle her… 

"Baby? Oh, Copi! Welcome home, sweet boy!" Imperator cooed, immediately pulling her son into her arms. He hugged her back eagerly, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Come here, come to mama's room… You've surely missed her." 

"Mhm…" Copia rubbed his eyes as he was led quickly down the hallway and tucked into Imperator's bed, sighing contentedly when she lay close beside him. 

"Oh, sleepy boy?" She asked softly, watching his eyelids flutter as he fought to stay awake. 

"Yeah…" 

"Let's undress… get nice and comfy, hm? So you can nap with mama." 

"Undress… with mama…" Copia muttered, shrugging off his jacket and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. 

"Let me help, baby," Imperator hummed, gently pulling off his shirt. His trousers came next, a soft groan escaping him. "Oh, those are far too tight… look at how they've dug into your tummy… And these, poor thing…" 

Imperator tugged at Copia's boxers and he let her take them off. 

"Isn't that better?" 

"Yeah…" He stared wistfully at Imperator's chest, eyes wet, chewing his lip. 

"Be patient. Mama knows your hungry." Imperator hurriedly undressed herself, returning to bed in nothing but her soft, lacy panties. "Here." 

She cuddled him close, feeling him gently lick at her nipple before he latched, sucking sleepily on her breast. 

"That good, baby? Think you can sleep like this, suckling on mama?" 

Copia moaned softly, eyelids fluttering again. 

"Go to sleep, Copia… mama has you." She leaned back, helping him lay on her and get comfortable. "Goodnight, sweet one…" 

He slept peacefully for a while, with only the occasional sigh or whimper, but the closer he got, the more tempting it was to grind his aching cock on Imperator's thigh. He finally caved, a loud, low whine coming from deep in his throat. Imperator let him hump her for a while, then woke him gently, stroking his cheek and running her thumb over his soft lips. 

"Need more than mama's breast?" 

Copia pulled back, lying flat on the bed, nodding desperately. 

"Be good for mama, be a patient boy…" She carefully adjusted his positioning and straddled his hips, gazing lovingly down at him. 

"Mama… mama, I missed you… please, mama…" 

“Mama missed having you inside her, too. I remember pushing you out… bearing down, struggling to get you to come because you were just so big…” She smiled softly, feeling Copia’s fat tip slipping into her as she eased down onto his cock. “Still my big baby, aren’t you? Filling mama’s cunt so well.”

"Yes… always mama's baby…" Copia breathed, trembling as Imperator's hot, wet cunt squeezed him. 

"I'm so glad… Mama couldn't imagine it being any other way…" She kept a moderate pace as she rode him, but it still took no time for him to cum, desperate and shaky. 

"I'm… sorry… I'm sorry… mama… I'm-" 

"Hush, baby. Mama isn't upset, you can make her feel good in other ways…" 

Copia's eyes lit up at her words, watching Imperator dismount him, his spend dripping down her thighs. 

"Still hungry?" She asked softly, sitting back and spreading her legs. 

"Yes, mama…" 

"Come eat." 

Copia scrambled to bury his face in Imperator's cunt, immediately licking and sucking at her clit. The taste of their mingled cum was positively intoxicating, and Copia grabbed her thighs tightly, dragging her closer. He whimpered at the sound of his mother's moans, getting particularly excited when she bucked up into his eager mouth. Her long, slender fingers threaded into his hair, forcing him deeper as she came on his tongue. He was held there for a while longer, lapping until she couldn't stand it any longer. 

"Good boy… you're always so good for mama." 

Imperator guided Copia to lay his head on her soft, wrinkled tummy, watching his body sag from exhaustion. 

"Take another nap, love. You deserve it." 

Most of it, Copia can live with. He likes the doting sort of attention, always having been susceptible to that sort of thing. He would be lying if he said he didn't like to be her singular focus when so often she was everyone else's. However, certain routines that no longer feel strictly necessary start causing some confusion.

Like bathtime.

Months after the fact, Perpetua is still insisting that he take a bath with her. In case he slips, she explains. As if that's still a concern.

For some reason, he doesn't tell her no. Instead he rolls his eyes and lets her get the bath ready for them, pretending not to watch as she pours in different oils and salts and other fancy bathtime things. (Pet does let Copia pick out the bathbomb though.)

They slot together in the tub with scant wiggle room, bodies pressed together like they were always meant to and with skin flushed from the heat of the rose-scented bathwater (and certainly not flushed from anything else). Her legs bracket him, keeping him in place as her hands explore his body. Starting at his shoulders and running down his chubby arms, slipping forward to give his hairy tits a squeeze and elicit a stuttered inhale from him. But it's when her hands start to trace the expanse of his belly that he has to bite his lip to try and stifle the noises he's making. She's just helping him wash off, she says. He shouldn't be so excited by her touch.

In the cloying wet heat and tangled around each other, it's almost as if they're sharing a womb again.

But then Perpetua rests her boney chin on his shoulder, kissing the freckles that scatter there and following the trail of them up his neck until she's nipping at his earlobe. Breath hot in his ear as she promises how she's not going to let anything bad happen to him ever again as her long legs tighten around him.

When her hands trail even lower to grope at the swell of the sudsy lower roll of his stomach, Copia can no longer ignore the heat of need and arousal his sister's touch fills him with.

It takes some awkward maneuvering and some sloshed bathwater lost over the edge of the porcelain tub, but eventually they slot together in a different way—more perfect and complete with Copia filling her lap and Pet pressing up into him. Rocking them gently with each tender yet punctuated thrust, shushing him and promising that everything will be alright now that she's taking care of him.

The comfort of his sister's cock filling him is too great for him to worry about silly things like whether or not he still needs the extra care any longer.

Still, it doesn't stop his squirming and the nervous anticipation he feels when he's sitting and watching her pull out her equipment. His eyes flicker from the bottles of ink to the tattoo gun. He's gotten a tattoo before, sure, but not one from her. And definitely not one that he didn't know what it would be.

His obedience doesn't negate his curiosity. In spite of himself, in spite of her power over him, he finds himself asking what kind of tattoo she's giving him and where it will be. Not offering an answer to the former, she answers the latter by brushing his wavy hair up away from where it wants to fall across his lower neck and pushing his head down.

He keeps his head lowered obediently and lets her work, having no idea what she's inking into his skin until it's already done.

Terzo tries showing him with a mirror first (having decided he's allowed to know before someone else tells him, having decided it's more fun if he knows), but he can't quite read the elegant, loopy script in reverse. It's a wine-dark purple with some gold accents, but that's the most he can reliably make out. So she takes a picture instead, and Copia feels what can only be described as a nauseous sort of arousal when she shows him the phone screen.

The picture shows him with his head bowed as if in prayer, her hand cradling him possessively even as her fingers tangle in his mousey brown waves. And there, illuminated by the camera flash, are the words "mama's boy" written in her hand. He wants to ask her to delete the picture; he knows that he can't. Even if she did, what good would it do? The tattoo was there, and it certainly wasn't going anywhere. It could be covered for the most part by his hair and a higher collar, but not entirely. She had placed it to draw the perfect amount of intrigue from anyone who caught a glimpse.