Work Text:
Perpetua hissed when the cool washcloth gently brushed his skin.
“I’m sorry,” Copia said, reaching out to push his sweaty hair from his face with his free hand. “I gotta clean you up.”
“I know,” Perpetua said tightly. “It’s okay.”
Copia leaned down to kiss his shoulder, the skin feverishly hot against his lips.
His twin was silent for the rest of the time he was cleaning his back, apart from a few whimpers here and there when he touched the darkest welts. Once he was finished, Copia went back to the bathroom, got a fresh cloth, and soaked it with cold water. Then he came back and gently laid it over his brother’s back. Perpetua cursed, his hands bunching up the sheets, before he sighed and relaxed.
“Such foul language,” Copia pointed out, amused.
“I’m sorry.”
The amusement left when he heard the whispered words.
“Don’t apologize,” he told him, brushing his knuckles over his damp cheek as he sat beside him. “I was just teasing you.”
Perpetua stayed quiet, and it made the unease in Copia rise. The tears were still falling, and he was starting to fear that it wasn’t about the physical pain anymore.
“Are you okay, princess?” he asked gently.
Perpetua remained silent for a long moment before exhaling shakily.
“Yes, Frater.”
He frowned at the stilted words.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m sorry,” Perpetua whispered, another tear rolling down his face, and Copia chased it away with his fingers.
“Stop apologizing, Pet,” he said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just want to make sure you’re okay because I l—because I care about you.”
Perpetua turned his face to bury it in the pillow and didn’t respond.
After a time, Copia felt the washcloth and found it was warm, so he carefully lifted it and took it back to the sink to get it cool again before bringing it back and delicately laying it on his brother’s back. This time, Perpetua gave only a slight flinch before sighing and relaxing. Copia slid his fingers into his hair and started stroking it, working through the knots that his curls always found a way to tie themselves into, no matter how much he combed them.
—
As he lay there with his back stinging fiercely, Perpetua felt his mind begin to cloud with a darkness he hadn’t felt in some time. It was the same feeling he used to get after his pain-induced orgasms as a teenager.
Shame.
He felt shame for doing what he’d done and for loving every second of it. And he felt shame for feeling that shame when he should have been basking in the pleasure and relief the act afforded him.
He had felt so good at first, just as he always used to. His mind was clear, and the pain and pleasure buzzed delightfully through him.
And then his head got foggy, just like it used to.
“I loved it,” he whispered.
Copia’s hand paused in his hair for a brief moment before continuing its movements. He didn’t respond, and Perpetua was grateful. He needed time to get out what he was trying to communicate.
“And now I feel like it’s wrong that I loved it.”
“It’s not wrong,” Copia said firmly, but Perpetua shook his head.
“I know it’s not. But I can’t help feeling that way, and I hate it. I’m Papa,” he scoffed. “I should be past stuff like this.”
“It’s not your fault you feel that way,” Copia said gently.
“How is it not?” he asked, turning his head to face the other direction. He’d already been crying, but these tears felt different. They felt humiliating in a way the others hadn’t.
“Hey, look at me,” Copia said, tugging lightly on his hair.
Perpetua didn’t answer, nor did he look back. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath through his mouth. He just needed to settle himself.
“Look at me, Perpetua.”
Breath hitching, he looked over, startled by the firm tone and the use of his name. When Copia spoke, it was in his Papa voice, the one that sent a chill down his spine and captured his undivided attention.
“You spent a significant amount of your life being told your desires were wrong, that you were tainted and weak-willed. You know that’s not true now, but that isn’t going to just go away. There will always be a part of you that remembers how you were raised and what you were told, and will try to keep you from what would be misbehaving in their eyes. What you know and what you feel aren’t always going to match up, and you should never apologize for that. You can’t control your emotions, no matter how much you want to. You can only choose how you act on them.”
Another wave of tears spilled from Perpetua’s eyes, and he let his mouth blurt out the thoughts as they came to him, not bothering to censor himself. Frater wouldn’t want him to.
“I always told myself I was repenting, that I was doing it to rid myself of my sins. And it did start that way. But when it started feeling good, I kept doing it more and more, until I stopped remembering what it was like not to have an aching back that made me flinch whenever my clothes brushed against it. I just wanted to feel good.”
—
That last part was said in such a small voice, it broke Copia’s heart. He hated what the church had done to his brother, how it had made him hate himself so deeply that even now, after all this time, he broke down over enjoying himself.
“You’re allowed to feel good now, Pet,” he told him softly. “No one is going to punish you. Lucifer wants you to feel good. He wants you to do what you enjoy, to be who you want to be.”
“I want to be happy,” Perpetua whispered.
Chest aching, Copia leaned down and kissed his temple before taking his chin and lifting his head so their eyes met.
“Then let yourself be happy.”
“Will you help me?” he asked shakily.
Copia leaned down again and pressed their lips together in a lingering kiss.
“I will do my very best.”
Perpetua nodded and exhaled, his breathing a little steadier than it had been.
“Thank you, Copia,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay now.”
“Do you promise?” Copia asked with a raised brow as he held out his pinky.
Perpetua nodded with a small smile and laced their pinkies together.
“I promise.”
—
After removing the washcloth for the final time and returning it to the bathroom, Copia came back and lay on his side, facing him. Perpetua lowered his gaze to the sheets, embarrassment from his breakdown still lingering.
The feeling was quickly fading, though, as most negative emotions did when he was with the man beside him. He’d meant it when he said he needed this earlier, and Copia’s guidance and comfort had assisted the catharsis.
When he remembered how this all started, his cheeks burned like his back, and he hid his face in the pillow.
“What is it?” Copia asked, a note of concern in his voice.
Trying to fight down even further embarrassment, he looked back at Frater.
“I like it when you call me princess,” he confessed quietly.
“I know you do,” Copia smiled. “That’s why I say it.”
Warmth filled Perpetua’s chest at the words, and he found himself smiling again.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“You’re welcome, princess.”