Sons of Midnight

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

So I thought up of these twin brothers and while I find a place for them in a true original story, I rolled around in the BlackWidower Universe by Janette. It took me awhile to get things how I wanted and I finally decided to post it. I'll keep posting depending on the feedback I get. You like it=finished story.
Sit down and relax and enjoy.


Sons of Midnight
Chapter 1: Stray Birds


Sargot city. A dark seedy place where almost everything had a price and a high one at that. The streets were littered with Homo Superiors-or Supes-, enjoying the privileged life they had won and maintained for nearly 30 years. The Homo sapiens on the streets were either pets or slaves since a non-chipped Sap wouldn't dare go out and be surrounded by people who could easily reach into their minds and find out. No, they huddled in dark alleyways, rundown buildings and, of course, there was always the Red District or Old Quarter. Those were the dirtiest parts of Sargot city and the most popular. Life thrived to a certain degree while people fell into one bed after another, danced their lives away at clubs or found the drug of choice. Here Pets littered almost every corner, waiting for a fare so their Keepers back home wouldn't beat them or perhaps reward them with a meal or a few hits of Emerald Dust or Sugar Frost.

It was a hedonistic hub that people ran to in order to escape their current life. Rumors even had it that one club in the Old Quarter area actually offered sanctuary to the world rejects; you just had to know where to look. But the younger you were, the harder it was to find any type of safe haven. Their bodies were the only currency they had and if they were simply Ghosts they were left to die in the streets. In a back alley, rummaging through a restaurant's dumpster two youths were living that life. One kept a look out while the other was going through the dumpster head first in hopes that something edible would be found.
The back door of the restaurant suddenly swung open and a greasy overweight man bumbled out.

"Damn cats," he muttered under his breath, sure it was just felines going through his garbage again. He froze in his tracks when he saw two young boys, one desperately trying to help the other out of the dumpster bin. "You lousy rats! Get away from here!"

Dumped food in their arms, they scattered and ran across the street into an empty alleyway. The one that was in the dumpster dropped his food and sat down on the dirty ground.

"You were supposed to be a look out, Desmond!"

The other youth propped himself up on the wall, trying to catch his breath. "I didn't know he was coming, Zavier. He just…popped out."

Zavier sighed and ran his fingers through his light brown hair. "Whatever. At least we managed to get something this time."

Their goods were a disgusting pile of half-eaten and spoiled food but their life gave no other options. They gingerly picked through the food until they found things edible and stuffed it into their small hungry mouths.

Desmond looked at the face identical to his own and gave a weak smile.
"That wasn't too bad," he offered softly.

Zavier scoffed. "We're eating food out of a fucking dumpster, Desie, of course it's bad."

Desmond looked down at himself and tugged at his dirty t-shirt and scuffed jeans. Yes, it was bad, it was horrible but it would have been worse if they didn't have each other. He was about to go over to his twin brother and say something encouraging—since that's what he always did—but a sudden pain in his stomach prevented him.

"Ugh," he groaned and held his stomach, doubling over slightly.

Zavier snapped out of his brooding and his blue eyes focused on his brother. "Desie? What's wrong?"

Desmond shook his head and sank down to the pavement. "I don't think I should have eaten that sandwich," he mumbled.

"I told you not to," Zavier snapped but he rushed over to his brother with concern. "You did the same thing yesterday, you idiot."

Desmond groaned again and his body shook as all the food he had consumed was violently pushed out of his body. He whimpered as he retched until there was nothing left but spittle and Zavier calmly rubbed his brother's back until his body was still. Desmond weakly wiped his mouth with his shirt and hugged Zavier tightly and his shoulders shook as the first of tears began to fall down his face.

"Shush, you big baby," Zavier chided but comforted Desmond just the same. For nearly two weeks Desmond couldn't keep food down. As soon as he ate food it would come right back up and he'd spend the rest of the night crying because how hungry he was. Zavier didn't understand since he hadn't had the same problems, sure his stomach would get sick but not to the same degree as Desmond's. He didn't want to say anything, but he was secretly afraid that his brother was sick. It wasn't like they could go to a hospital since they were Ghosts and Zavier didn't want them to be separated in work camps or sold to be pets or slaves. Their lives were a struggle from sun up to sun down but they were together, and that's all that mattered. They were only a mere hour apart but Zavier felt it his responsibility to take care of them both.

"It's okay, Desie," Zavier whispered, "it'll be okay. I'll find you some better food, I promise."

Zavier tugged at his brother's arms. "We can't stay here, can you get up?"

Desmond sniffed and nodded, standing up with his Zavier's help. They took shortcuts and shadowed streets back to the rundown building they called home. It was literally falling apart but the plumbing still worked and the dirty blankets kept them warm at night. They were living in places like this ever since they ran from the orphanage, moving closer and closer to the Old Quarter. Zavier laid Desmond down on the dusty floor and put some comforters on the shivering youth.

"Hungry," Desmond moaned pitifully.

"I know," Zavier replied, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. He knew what he had to do, even though he promised Desmond he wouldn't. "I'll find another place that might have better food; you stay here and rest, okay?"

Zavier went into another part of the decaying house and in a small room that was occupied by nothing but a small trunk. It was filled with the only things the two boys had left of who they were and where they came from. Faded photos, a few meaningless books and letters addressed to a person they shared nothing with except a last name. It hurt Desmond too much to look inside the chest and it allowed Zavier to hide things away from his brother. Under the stacks of old paper and books were clothes. A thin black sleeveless shirt and a pair of leather pants that Zavier had stolen weeks ago. He dug out the clean clothing and looked at it sadly.

"I'm sorry, Desie," Zavier whispered, "but there's no other way."

Zavier cleaned up the best he could and put on the clothes; they hugged his lithe frame and made him seem much older than his sixteen years. He pushed his unkempt hair out of his face and left the house, heading for the more populated part of the city.

Their home wasn't far from the dangerous zone known as the Old Quarter and Zavier carefully made his way amongst the crowds. He knew when to duck out of sight so not to be noticed by strangers passing by and how to blend into shadows just enough to almost disappear. It wasn't something Zavier consciously did or could control, he just KNEW. He hurried past a club called The Nocturne and walked across the street to where several people were gathered. He stood on the corner, hoping to get noticed by that right person that would give him what he needed.

Within minutes a warm hand was on his shoulder. "Aren't you cold in that shirt?"

Zavier turned and smiled. "Kinda, but I can easily get warm."

The man smirked and tightened the grip on Zavier's shoulder. "I bet you can."

The boy kept himself from slapping the hand away and thought of Desmond, lying on the floor sick and hungry. Desmond had his brother promise that they would never sell their bodies for food, no matter what and Zavier had hesitantly agreed. However Zavier watched his brother day after day go hungry because he couldn't keep down the filth they ingested.

"You wanna help?" Zavier asked shyly. The man "felt" okay and he decided this was the one. "Only fifty credits." That would be just enough to get Desmond something decent to eat for perhaps two days.

"Talk about a bargain," the man replied with a lecherous smile. "Let's go to my car around the corner."

Zavier let the man lead him across the street and chewed on his lip as he slipped into the sports car. This guy was clearly a Supe that wanted a taste of the dirty Old Quarter; a quick fuck he could forget about in the morning.

Inside the car, Zavier's new friend pushed down his pants showing off his hard erection. Before the young boy could react, his head was forced down and he yelped as the head of the man's cock hit the back of his throat. He fought the urge to back away and let his mouth be violated again and again until hot salty semen exploded into his mouth. He swallowed it and yanked away, gasping for air.

"How about for sixty more credits I really warm you up?"

Not that. He had managed to get by with only offering blow jobs and avoided sex as often as possible. But Desie….

Zavier whimpered and unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his ankles. "O-okay," he whispered.

Clearly a seasoned pro when it came to driver's seat sex, the man pulled Zavier on top of him and positioned him just right so all he had to do was push the youth down and get his pleasure. Zavier's lip trembled as he felt the hardness probe his tight opening and he mentally tried to prepare his body for the pain that would follow. Sadly, there was nothing to prepare him for the blinding agony as he was impaled on the man's large member. He tore into Zavier without mercy and the young boy bounced painfully as the man grunted and moaned beneath him.

Strangely, with every thrust a new sensation went through Zavier's body. It was a flicker of pleasure, almost like a phantom that rose higher with every thrust and with it an odd hunger. Zavier let the older man guide his body while he stared blankly forward, panting softly as the new sensations wrapped around him like a warm blanket. And just as soon as they came, they were gone and Zavier felt himself filled with hot seed.

"Damn, that was good," the man muttered but Zavier wasn't listening. What was it he had felt? "You can get off me now."

Zavier mentally shook himself and climbed off the man, feeling sticky and disgusting. Credits were tossed at him and he was literally kicked out of the car and landed painfully on the concrete sidewalk. Slowly, Zavier composed himself and went to the nearest store to buy his twin something fresh to eat and medicine for his stomach.

It was nearly four hours before Zavier dragged himself back into the decrepit house and laid the bag of food and medicine by his sleeping brother. He hid the clothes back in the trunk, cleaned himself up and joined Desmond in the small bedroom. "Desie? Desie, wake up. I have food."

Desmond woke to the word 'food' and sat up. He looked at the food near him—store bought food—and even though he was starving he scooted away from it. "What did you do to get this, Avie?" he asked softly, afraid of the answer.

"I did what I had to," Zavier replied miserably.

Fresh tears ran down Desmond's cheeks. "No, Avie, no. You promised!"

"Would you rather I let you starve!?" Zavier shouted back. "You're sick because you can't eat! I won't lose you, Desmond!"

Tentatively Desmond reached inside the bag and took careful bites out of the freshly made sandwich. Within seconds it was gone and he was in the middle of his second when he felt that all too familiar wrench in his stomach.

Zavier watched him with fearful eyes. "Keep it down, Desie. Try to keep it down."

Desmond chewed on his lips as he fought the rising bile but it was no use. Zavier managed to put a bag to his brother's mouth as all the food came back up in a violent rush. Desmond's head swam and he collapsed on the floor as his body went through its thirteenth day without anything but water.

Zavier's next attempt was to give Desmond the medicine he had bought. The cashier had said it was the best thing for upset stomachs and with a shaking hand Zavier poured a capful of the thick blue liquid.

"Here, Des, drink this."

Desmond shook his head. "No more, Zavier, no more."

"This will help," Zavier stressed and put the cap to his brother's trembling lips.

Slowly, Desmond relented and grimaced as he gulped down the awful tasting medicine. He felt it trickle down his throat, land painfully in his stomach and within moments it joined the food in the bag. Weaker than before, Desmond slumped forward and Zavier caught him just in time. He held his twin's head to his chest and held back the tears. Losing Desmond would be like losing his own life; he couldn't imagine trying go through this life by himself.

Zavier peeked down and saw Desmond's eyes were closed and his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. He had passed out again. There was food leftover but Zavier didn't dare make Desmond eat anymore. Instead he laid them both down on the floor, pulled the blankets tight over their bodies and soon fell asleep.


More to come! Thank you for reading!
Later, Peccavi