This was narcissism of the highest form. They tangled together in a struggle for dominance; the doctor had age and experience, the captain youth and vigor and such a need for power and control. Sunglasses had been thrown off, the captain still intrigued by the crimson and gold irises and the slitted pupils. He would pull at the doctor’s hair just to see those eyes flash, like they had been ignited by flame.
As far as the captain had seen, the differences between them were subtle. He tried to stave off his curiosity as he pulled the doctor’s shirt open, hands exploring as their mouths came together.
The doctor yanked down the zipper of the captain’s tactical vest, all but throwing it aside once it was off. He ripped open the captain’s shirt, not out of impatience, but out of disgust, the STARS patch having been in clear view. It represented so many things, none of them pleasant. Looking at it reminded him of his many failures in life, and as his eyes met the captain’s, midnight blue and so very human, he was filled with the desire to correct those mistakes.
And perhaps it wasn’t fair to treat his younger self this way. He grabbed a fistful of the captain’s hair and yanked his head back. The captain growled, fingers grasping the doctor’s shirt - either to pull him closer or to push him away, he wasn’t sure - wincing as the doctor scraped his teeth along his jawline. He tried to force his way out, to assert himself, but the doctor held him in place. The doctor clenched that wretched shirt and yanked it from the captain’s shoulders, quickly tossing it away. His mouth moved downward, towards those now exposed shoulders, nipping at the naked flesh.
The captain tried to pretend it wasn’t as arousing as it really was, too unwilling to submit. He pulled the doctor’s shirt away and let it fall to the floor. Under his fingers, the skin felt scarred. He gripped one of the doctor’s arms, and the doctor growled. The doctor pulled his head back, his expression something between arousal and fury. Maybe a little of both.
There were scars there. The captain averted his eyes from his counterpart and looked down. They looked almost like bruises, dark purple and red, in splotchy patches along the doctor’s arms, and across his chest.
“As I told you before, be mindful of your lust for power.”
The captain opened his mouth to speak, but the doctor kissed him roughly as he pressed his younger self against the wall. The doctor pressed into him, their hips colliding together.
No more time for playing, then.
Moments later, they each had their hands around the other’s length (and there were no differences there), jacking each other off as they bit and licked at the other’s mouth, and neck, and shoulders. Free hands clawed at skin, raking across flesh and leaving behind marks. Where the captain was in awe, marveling at the power and strength of the doctor’s body, the doctor was rough and to the point of violence, as though he wanted to punish this younger version of himself. He gripped harder than he should have, bit down too savagely, thrust too quickly against that coarse gloved hand.
He was confused and angry and uncertain if this was all one long delusion. All too quickly, he realized: Even if it were a delusion, or some twisted hallucination, he didn’t care.
The captain was groaning, urging him on. Their eyes met again. The captain’s mouth was open as he panted. As his head tilted back, the doctor’s hand came up to grip his neck, squeezing just hard enough to bruise, but not enough to suffocate. The captain’s gaze jerked back to the doctor’s, at first surprised and then laughing, his laughter turning into a groan as he came. His hips spasmed, and the doctor didn’t relent, not until the captain forced his hand away.
The doctor smirked at him as he cleared some of the mess from his abdomen and brought it up to his own mouth, licking it off. The captain grinned, too, as the doctor placed his hands against the wall, on either side of the captain’s head. Those eyes were gleaming at him, again alight. As the captain put both hands to work, he wondered how those eyes would look in the throes of orgasm. The doctor didn’t look away, even as his breathing turned ragged and all that escaped from his mouth were guttural moans and low growls. Such perfection and beauty, now reduced to nothing more than bestial lust. His lip curled and exposed his teeth, and still his eyes never left the captain’s. When he came, his eyes burned, more crimson than gold. His mouth went slack as he tried to calm his racing heart.
The captain chuckled under his breath as the doctor pressed into him. He nipped at his elder’s neck and licked away the sweat from his skin. “I take it you enjoyed fucking yourself?”
The doctor laughed, low and dark. “Yes, I suppose I did. Must do it again some time.” He moved so that he could examine his counterpart, noting the bruises and scratches and bite marks left behind. Briefly he wondered how he would explain the more visible marks to his fellow STARS team if they ever asked.
The captain’s fingers trailed along the other’s shoulders. He hadn’t yet been told how he came by them, but he knew enough to make an educated guess. “You know, I think I might be in love with you.”
Again, the doctor laughed. “I’ll try not to psychoanalyze that.”