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It’s a kind of revulsion. A sickness. A sense of horror that grips him somewhere behind the navel and spreads, creeping up to heat his cheeks and settle in a guilty throb between his thighs. For a moment, he fears he may throw up.
Learning he’d had a brother was about the only thing that had made sense to Perpetua in all of this sudden change. It was obvious all at once; that gaping hole within him that has followed him all throughout his life, feeling more like a missing limb than just regular loneliness. It was the kind of yearning that could only come from losing someone so significant as a sibling. A twin. He’d been filled with such a sweet sense of eager apprehension. Somewhere, someone out there was reaching for him the same way he’d been reaching all these years, and they were closer than they had been since they’d shared a womb.
And he couldn’t get the damned door open. He’d been so close. So close and then, after a frankly embarrassing display of ineptitude, asked to return once they’d made necessary repairs to the door. Which wouldn’t be until after the tour, of course. Somehow, it had felt worse than not knowing he’d had a twin at all. There was only one thing for such an occasion.
He couldn’t tell you the name of the club he was in. Hell, he was four drinks in and taking body shots off the twink in silver panties, he could hardly remember that he was in Los Angeles. All he knew is that he had been having a miserable time earlier in the day, and now he was having a great one. How could he be lonely with this many bodies pressed against him? How could he feel pain when he couldn’t feel the tip of his nose?
And then, through the swarm of people he was gyrating with, he saw him. The most handsome stranger in the place. He stuck out like a sore thumb, leaning against the bar as though he were doing his best imitation of someone who would be comfortable in a place like this. He gripped his fruity little concoction with two gloved hands, bouncing unconsciously along to the music, muscles tense with discomfort. He was perfect prey. The exact dose of medicine he’d need to wash away the last lingering bit of emotion. Something cute to sink his teeth into. He’d slunk across the room without a second thought, leaning on the bar directly beside his new plaything.
”What’s your poison, sweetheart?” He purred, tracing a finger around the rim of the stranger’s glass. He’d never be so forward, usually, but he was far beyond caring about what was appropriate.
”I-I’m sorry?” The man blinked at him, either startled or confused, Perpetua couldn’t tell and frankly didn’t care which. He was too busy focusing on the strange accent that made the words sound almost melodic.How exotic.
”What are you drinking?” He rephrased, fluttering his eyelashes and hoping that the man across from him would get that he was flirting.
”Oh. Uh. Some kind of…Fuck, I don’t know. It tastes like fruit and floor cleaner.”
He couldn’t stifle the laugh he let out. Cute and funny? If he had a big cock, he’d be the whole package. His eyes drifted south before he could stop them, trying to prematurely satisfy that curiosity as he flagged down the bartender.
”Excuse me, could I get two more of these fruit and floor cleaners? Put them on my tab.”
And then came the moment he should’ve stopped. The moment that should have sobered him up quicker than anything else. The one that smacked him full force when he began recalling this night with new knowledge. He noticed the man’s eyes for the first time.
”Wow, would you look at that?” He says out loud. Too loudly to be to himself. “We’ve got the same eye condition!”
The stranger met his eyes, looking directly into them instead of somewhere over Perpetua’s left shoulder for the first time since he’d strolled up to him, and Perpetua couldn’t help but notice then the remains of dark makeup clinging to his eyes. He almost asked about it, but blessedly, the man spoke first, saving him from sticking his foot directly in his mouth.
”Heh. Well what do you know? It’s in the same eye, too.” He tapped his face with a leather gloved hand, although he indicated the wrong eye. “It’s uh. It’s a family thing for me. Genetics and all that shit.”
”Well, who knows, maybe you’re my long lost brother.” It was a joke, but really, either of them should’ve caught it. But Perpetua was drunk, and horny, and sad, and embarrassed, and more than a little afraid of the future. And Copia….well, looking at him now, knowing what they both know, Copia should’ve known better.
Whether he did or not, Perpetua couldn’t say. All he knows is what happened next, because he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.
”I hope not. Because that would make it very awkward when you follow me into the bathroom.” He purred, downing half the fruity cocktail with a seductive pull of the straw, watching with satisfaction as the stranger’s eyes tracked him hungrily.
He’d set his trap. Now all that was left was to wait and see if his target took the bait. Perpetua slammed the rest of the cocktail as he swayed towards the restrooms, grateful for the fact that this club had single stall restrooms. He didn’t bother to lock the door behind him, confident that in a matter of moments, exactly the right person would stumble in after him. He leaned against the sink facing the door as he waited, already toying with his belt buckle absentmindedly.
The door opened slowly, and as soon as Perpetua recognized the boots, he pounced, pulling the nervous stranger in and slamming him against the door. From then, his memory begins to grow fuzzy around the edges, made faint with lust, and with alcohol and now, with shame. He doesn’t remember how he got there at all, he just remembers being on his knees. The cold press of the tile through his jeans, the feeling of rough denim growing wet under his tongue, the hot press of a cock straining underneath. He doesn’t remember so much as pausing to unbutton and unzip, no shuffling of clothes, no breaths taken. Maybe Copia had been the one to do it. It didn’t matter, in the end, because the deed had been done.
The feeling of cock in the back of his throat was not as easy to forget as how it got there in the first place, nor was the soft curse let out above him in angelic tones. In fact, come to think of it, he couldn’t remember too many details of the blowjob itself either. Better than anything else, he remembers the sounds. The sighs, the muttering, the whimpers. The way they crested as he got closer. It’s the same meekness in his voice now as he introduces himself.
Perpetua’s hand goes limp as Copia’s squeezes around it, the grip all too familiar. All too easy to recognize as the same fingers that had met at the back of his head, pulling him hard onto his cock as he came down his throat. He’s more than a little woozy at the memory, breathless all over again as the events and their meanings all fall into place.
That sweet little tryst in the bathroom had been the best sex he’d had in ages, and he’d spent the whole tour thinking about it. He’d waited for months to get back to Los Angeles, palming himself to the thought of encountering this mysterious stranger in the wild once more and taking him all the way. He’d come breathless over and over again at the thought of pinning him to the floor and riding him recklessly. And here he is! The beautiful, mysterious, well hung stranger. His own twin brother.
”So uh. The tour? It was good?” His voice- the same that had said something cheeky about genetics- sounds far away and echoey. “The first one is always a lot, no?”
He sounds so normal. So unaffected. How is he staying so calm? Could it be that he doesn’t recognize him with the mask? With the makeup? No, that can’t be. He can’t be that stupid. He should’ve recognized him from the eyes alone.
”I’ve been keeping up with the uh. The concert videos.” He says finally, breaking the awkward silence that descends between them.
Oh. He did know, then. He had known.
”You seemed um. More…confident last I saw you.” It’s the perfect thing to say. Cleverly crafted to ask a question directly that no one else who may be listening would understand. Clearly these walls have ears. He has so much to learn.
”Uh. Yes. Sorry. So much has changed since then, it’s uhm. Hard to keep track, y’know?”
”Yes, that’s reasonable, all things considered.” Copia- his brother nods, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. It’s the only tell that he’s feeling anything at all approaching the shame and guilt that Perpetua is sure is written on his own face plain as day.
Another silence descends between them, heavy and full of questions unasked. Full of horrors unspoken, and truths too terrible to name. There ought to be something he can say to make it seem a little more like this interaction is completely normal. Hell, Copia seems to be doing a great job of sticking his head in the sand and pretending that things are all completely normal. Perpetua can’t even look up from his shoes, recognizing them even now.
”I hope, Papa, that we are able to meet again under more opportune circumstances.” There’s a growl in his voice that sounds half like spite, half like anger, and that seems to snap Perpetua out of his shock. “But really, I must get going. Frater Imperator is no small job, after all.”
”Yeah. Sure.” He shrugs, stepping to the side elegantly. Whatever crawled up his ass has to be bigger than just sex. “Have a good evening, Frater.”
He knows he should start walking in the opposite direction, even if he has no business that way, but Perpetua’s feet stay stubbornly nailed to the floor, his traitorous gaze following the swing of his brother’s hips as he speed-walks away. Dizzy with nausea, he finally forces himself to take one step at a time, walking aimlessly down the halls of the ministry, hoping he’ll stumble back to his accommodations by accident.