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It wasn’t normal, he knew, looking right at an exact replica of yourself, being so at-ease around your own doppelgänger. It wasn’t normal to exchange pleasantries with yourself, to work together and research with your own human reflection. It definitely wasn’t normal to pin yourself up against the wall, to press your own body against an exact copy of itself as your mouth hungrily presses up against the other’s.
He couldn’t give an exact reason for why, how, things had turned out this way. Maybe it was because he was so jaded to the idea of alternates, thanks to living with Lusa and Esper. Maybe it was because it fascinated him, having another version of himself around (and it was himself, not Lusa or Esper, but another, impossible copy of him). Maybe it was because the only person whose company he could stand was himself. He supposed it didn’t really matter.
It had been purely experimental the first time, lips awkwardly pressing against those of his other self’s for the sake of what they each claimed was an “experiment”. Maybe it had been an experiment at first (just how much could you fluster yourself? how much could you please yourself? how enamoured could you be with yourself?). It hadn’t been unpleasant, lips soft and mouth warm as each of them attempt to figure this out (because when was the last time he’d ever practised this? it wasn’t until later that he realised his first kiss had gone to himself).
The first time had led to a second. The second to a third. A fourth, fifth... They’d both lost track by now, neither of them quite sure just how many afternoons had been wasted on each other (because it wasn’t just kissing anymore, was it?) rather than spent meticulously poring over research data (and at one point that would have been unthinkable, but now... now he couldn’t quite stay away from himself). They couldn’t quite call it an “experiment” any longer, weren’t sure what you would call this relationship of theirs (and is that what it was? a relationship?).
That led him to now, body pressed up against another just like it, pushing himself against the laboratory wall as he claims his own lips again and again. His fingers reach up to tangle in soft strands of hair (and “soft” was an understatement, he’d never realised just how perfect his own hair was until all this), teeth nibbling at the other’s lower lip (just hard enough to provoke a response, because he loves that sound he makes. and was that strange, too? to enjoy your own habits this much?).
He pulls away from his double’s mouth now, leaning down to trail light, feathery kisses down the man’s neck. He can hear the other’s breath catch in his throat, can feel it, smirking against skin as his kisses start to linger. The growl he receives in response when he bites the other is music to his ears (because he hates that, he knows he hates it. dark, obvious marks left on his otherwise flawless skin).
His hands slowly disentangle themselves from his other self’s now-dishevelled hair, even more slowly trailing their way down his reflection’s body. A pause to cup the other’s face, lips pressing against lips once more in a long, slow, needy kiss, only pulling away for a fleeting moment to allow them both to regain their breath (and he takes the opportunity to look at his other self, to really look. face flushed, hair in disarray, eyes glazed over with want, lust. and oh how he loves that look).
They don’t part for long, his hands roaming lower as kisses become rougher, more demanding, hungrier. His hands finally settle at the other’s waist, fingers slowly sliding underneath the waistline of his double’s pants (and how far would they let themselves go this time? he didn’t want to stop, knew that neither of them wanted to). “...Hey.” He mumbles against his doppelgänger’s lips, kissing him once again before saying anything further. “This time...” Another kiss. “Could we...”
And that’s when it happens. Two knocks can be heard from the door, and a terrifying jolt of panic courses through the both of them. They only just manage to pull away from each other in time, distancing themselves as the door swings open to reveal a certain Psyker that neither of them were pleased to see. “Yo, Mastermind--”
“What.” They reply in unison (and they both love doing that, they’ve decided. the look on Lusa’s face when two of him turn on him simultaneously was too good to pass up).
“U-Uh, I--” Lusa holds both hands up in front of himself in self-defence, eyes growing wide. “I-Is now a bad time or somethin’? Uh...” Lusa squints at one of them. “Are... Are ya okay, Mastermind..? Y’ look kinda--”
“I’m fine.” They respond in tandem once more, watching Lusa cringe in response.
“I’ll uh... I’ll come back later, sorry f’r... If I in’errupted somethin’..?” Lusa throws each of them an odd look before leaving just as quickly as he’d barged in (and he was always doing that, just charging about like he owned the place).
He sighs, running one hand through his hair in agitation (and somehow the sensation was the same and yet oh-so different from running his fingers through his other self’s hair). “That was... close.”
His double hums in agreement, slowly moving closer. “...Maybe not in the lab, then. Our room, perhaps?” He only nods in response, liking that idea.
But then, of course he liked that idea.
It was his.