Tristan watched the human at the computer from the doorway. He was so intent on what he was doing he didn’t even look up when he’d opened the door and entered. Tristan closed his hands into fists and readied himself for what was coming. He wasn’t angry. He knew this would happen, after all, Alex was human, it was only a question of time before he poked his nose where he had no business being. It was also why Tristan had been leaving the door unlocked for almost a month, and creating excuses to be out of the house every few days, to give Alex the opportunity. That he’d picked a day where he actually was needed away didn’t matter. When the sensor had warned him of the intrusion, it was a simple matter for Tech to tell Ikary he needed a tool he hadn’t thought to bring. He hadn’t hurried back. If Alex hadn’t been here by the time he arrived, he would have confronted him with the sensor result and the lesson would have been taught the same. He looked around for any indication the human had gone through his things, but everything was where they should be. The sensor had indicated Alex had gone in a straight line for the computer, but he’d moved slowly. He would have time to grab something. That would have been a far worse mistake then just entering this room. Tristan silently crossed the room, paying attention to the human's body language for any indication he was aware of his presence. He wasn’t. The computer had all his attention. He stopped five feet away, and gave Alex ten seconds to realize he wasn’t alone. When his gaze hadn’t even flickered away from the screen in that time, Tristan struck. He was next to the human, his fist already moving when Alex became aware of him, he shut down the computer as he looked in Tristan direction, causing the hit to strike him in the face, instead of across it. The chair tipped back and Alex ended up on his back. Tristan saw the direction in which he was planning to roll and could have adjusted where his foot landed, broken his neck, killed him, gotten him out of his life, But this wasn’t the purpose of this…exercise. His foot landed where Alex’s neck had been, and he gave the human time to get to his feet before striking again. Alex dodged the punch, which left his neck unprotected. Tristan grabbed him, considered squeezing the life out of him, but instead threw him toward the door. Alex had come to a stop before the open door and had managed to pull himself to a crouch when Tristan reached him. A hard kick to the stomach sent the human through the doorway, out of his workroom. Alex made it to his feet this time before Tristan walked to him, and he tried to punch him. The strikes were slow and lacked coordination. They never connected. Tristan struck back. Three quick jabs, face, chest and stomach. Alex didn’t fall, as he’d expected. He moved away from the wall, tried to put some distance between them. Even before he started moving his arms, Tristan could tell they’d be protecting his chest and face, so he kicked his stomach again. Alex would dodge left, reacting to the feint, and Tristan would strike him there. Alex would try to strike back, and Tristan would step inside the attack, elbow the human across the face and step out. If this were one of their practice, Tristan would give him time to catch his breath, give him a second or two to process what had happened and let him try to improve his defenses. Under this method, Alex had improved. This wasn’t a practice. “Please, stop,” Alex whimpered as he staggered back from a blow. The next one, to his face, almost sent him falling back, but he staggered and managed to remain standing. “I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, before doubling over from the punch in his stomach. The next words were barely audible as he crumpled to the floor. “I won’t do it again.” Tristan watched the human, curled up on his floor, trying to get away from him. He no longer had the strength to fight, but he knew that to stay close was to ask for death. That he was able to think after this beating impressed Tristan a little. He crouched next to him. “You entered my workroom without my permission.” Alex looked at him, his eyes flicking from the bloody fists to the impassive face. “It wasn’t locked,” he wheezed, then flinched as if preparing himself to be hit again. Tristan watched him, gave him the time to get over the fear of something that wasn’t coming. He didn’t need to hit him again, he’d made his point. Now all he had to do was deliver the ultimatum that would send this nuisance away. “You live here because I let you.” He waited until Alex nodded, confident that the real meaning had sunk in. “If you want this to continue, you will stop assuming you have the right to move freely about my house. You are not my guest. You are not wanted here. You go where I allow you. You do what I tell you to. These are the rules if you want to stay here. I will not repeat them, and if you break them, I will not hold back my anger.” Alex’s eyes went wide, and Tristan let him think that this beating had been restrained. The more afraid he was, the quicker he’d leave. “The door is there.” He pointed to it. “Diny’s can offer you a room until you arrange for someone to come get you.” They locked eyes, and Tristan saw the conflicting emotions in them, the fear, the want, the calculation, resignation, determination. The human shook his head. Tristan was…perplexed. This human couldn’t think that anything good would come of him staying. “You understand that you will not be offered an exit again. If you stay, you are mine.” Fear, uncertainty, determination. Those crossed the human’s face before he nodded, then looked away. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Maybe he should kill him. Clearly the human had a death wish. Tristan stood. “Clean up, then clean the blood you left on my floors.” He turned and left him there. He washed the blood at the sink in his workroom, and then headed to the computer to find out which of his files the human had compromised. He noticed the earpiece on the floor and picked it up. Alex had been wearing it. It allowed the wearer to talk directly to the computer. Tristan didn’t see a point in them. He didn’t need to talk to computers, just get them to do what he wanted, like the rest of the universe. He wiped the blood off it and set it on the corner of the station. He turned the computer on and the screen showed what Alex had been looking at. He hadn’t thought to wipe the buffer before the attack. Three of the windows were accounts for ordinary people, a writer, a virtual assistant, an emotion listener. A quick look at their history showed them to be unremarkable in every way. When Alex entered the workroom, Tristan slowed his work, keeping part of his attention on him. He’d been compliant then, but he’d had time to think things over. If he planned on taking his revenge, it would be now, while he thought Tristan was fully engrossed in his work. Alex only came close to him once, and only close enough to take the earpiece off the station, then he was cleaning the floor. Two of the other windows were bank accounts, impressive ones, showing regular transfer in and out, between the two as well as sixteen other banks accounts and forty-two individuals. All the transactions were normal, for service rendered, items purchased and sold. It looked very ordinary, except for the fact that with an occasional transfer in and out from the bank to an untraceable person, or persons, the money never left the group. It was completely different from how he did it, but this was a system to hide the money Alex had made over the years. And he’d made a large sum. Using the names of the ordinary people linked to those bank accounts, Tristan found six warrants for Alex in relation to piracy, information theft, assault, and larceny. Common mercenary fares. He traced the first warrant to a case fourteen years ago, objective time, for information theft on Bramolian Six. Four years. It had only taken the love-sick human he'd left behind four objective years to go from someone so desperate for an alien to love him that he’d attached himself to the first one to say yes, to a mercenary with the fortitude and skill to infiltrate a law station and get out without losing more than one of his identities. That was impressive. He left Alex’s account alone. He didn’t need the money, and the human had earned it. He felt a glimmer of pride in knowing Alex had become this resourceful. It didn’t mean he wanted him around, but at least it had been a successful mercenary who had tracked him down, not…whatever he’d been before. Once Alex was done, he left. Tristan didn’t bother locking the door. He didn’t think the human would ever come back in here without permission, but he might as well find out now if he was wrong. He closed down the windows and looked through his files for any indications Alex had access them. He didn’t find any, and the monitoring programs he had floating inside the system didn’t report any intrusions to them. Reassured his files were safe, he spent the rest of the evening rewriting the security programs Alex had bypassed. When he was done, he was confident that if the human attempted it again, he wouldn’t succeed. Before shutting down the computer he placed an order with the town’s store for a new system. He’d decided he should remove at least the normal need for Alex to feel he had to break into his workroom again, and this new system wouldn’t contain anything sensitive. He checked in on Alex, the bruises on his face were already turning from dark blue to sickly yellow-green under the effect of the heal-all he’d taken. Tristan made a note of ordering human strength meds from Cornelius. He couldn’t risk Alex using his own when he ran out. Satisfied the human was okay, Tristan lied down on his mattress and closed his eyes. * * * * * The next day Alex was still sore, but Tristan didn’t let that interfere with the training. Fighting, then a run. Alex lagged behind a little more than usual, but he managed to keep up. The knife training went as well as expected. Even with the soreness, Alex was capable, far better than most humans Tristan had fought with the blade. Alex made them food, which Tristan ate without comment. The terminal arrived in the evening, and Tristan installed it in Alex’s room, moving boxes aside for it. He connected it to the network, and made sure his terminal couldn’t be accessed from it, then left. The next day Alex was better, blocking more of Tristan’s attacks, not falling behind as much, and inflicting four cuts over the course of their knife fight. Alex was a good learner, Tristan had noted early on. He didn’t always adapt quickly enough to avoid repeated injuries, but he did adapt, and he was becoming more perceptive of Tristan’s body language, so that until Tristan purposely tried to fool him, Alex learned to see some of the blows come and not be there. Over the following weeks, Tristan noticed something else happening, something with him. He found himself watching the human. He’d stop what he was doing as he caught a glimpse of him outside and go to the window. What was unusual wasn’t that he was watching him, but what part of him he watched. His chest, his groin, his ass. He’d find himself captivated by them, and then he’d remember the two of them in bed. He had been Jack then, and sex had been something he’d used to tie Alex to him. Jack had loved the sex. He’d enjoyed sitting on top of Alex, moving until both climaxed, or being between his legs, making the human squirm and bed for more. Pleasuring him until neither could stand it anymore. And Tristan’s body reacted to those memories. He’d turn away, go back to his work, forced his mind away from those acts. Sex wasn’t something he enjoyed. It was something he used. That night, Tristan dreamed. Alex was moving before him, wearing a tight shirt and canvas pants. The motion were those of a fight, but he wasn’t holding knives, and he moved slowly, sensually. Tristan didn’t have to go to him. Alex came of his own volition. He pressed himself against Tristan, turned and rubbed sensitive places. Tristan wanted to grab him, throw him to the ground and take him, but he couldn’t move. He was powerless against Alex who ran his hands through his fur cupped, and caressed places that hadn’t been touched like that in…since the last time Alex had touched him in this way. Alex turned and pressed his back against Tristan, grinding his ass on his needy groin. Alex took Tristan’s hands and placed them on his chest, running them up and down the silky fabric of the shirt. Alex guided them even lower, over the rough material of the pants and Tristan felt that Alex was as needy as he was. * * * * * Tristan opened his eyes. He didn’t growl, although he was angry. He didn’t yell, or scream, because that would be an admission that he wasn’t in control. That the dream had been about that was bad enough, but he could feel the erection, the need to use it. He wanted to go to the room opposite his, and bury it in the man there. He wanted to unleash himself, take what was his. Instead he forced his breathing to slow. He was Tristan. He didn’t let urges control him, he controlled them. This was just one other attempt from the universe to get to him. Make him lose control, make a mistake that would cost him his life. It wouldn’t happen. Tristan was in control, not the universe. His breathing was back to normal, but the erection was still there. Annoyed he headed to the bathroom and got under the shower head. He turned it on and set it hot. He hissed and used the discomfort to force his body to obey. When the erection finally went away he dried himself and went back to his bed to sleep. * * * * * He wouldn’t look. He had work to do. He was in control. He was at the window, watching Alex again. With a growl he turned. At least his mind hadn’t gone wandering this time. It, and his body, had stayed firmly under his control. * * * * * He didn’t react as Alex cut him for the fifth time. His gaze had dropped to the human’s crotch, and the pouch there suggesting at something he knew was ample. His mind had provided a reminder of what it could do and the pain he felt up his arm was all that kept his body from betraying him to the human. He was in control. Not his urges. Not that human with his tantalizing curves and angles barely hidden by the cloth. Him, Tristan, was in control. He fixed his gaze on the human’s face and attacked. Pressing until Alex hissed in pain and a long shallow cut appeared on his face, almost a mirror of the scar. Tristan controlled his life, and those in it. The universe only thought it was in charge. Tristan wouldn’t let anything this human did take that away. If he thought covering himself in an enticing way would chip that away, Tristan had an easy solution. He took position and waited for Alex to do the same. When they were both ready, instead of attacking, Tristan said, “strip.” “Wha—?” Before Tristan began moving to rip those pieces of clothing off, Alex was taking off the shirt, and only hesitated for a moment before getting out of his pants and underwear. He stood there, skin incredibly pale, hands over his groin and face turning red. “From now on, unless someone from town comes over, this is how you’ll be.” Alex nodded, although he still looked confused. Tristan took care of that by attacking him again. * * * * * The next day, Joanifer couldn’t look at them when she served them. Tristan knew she’d gotten a good look at both of them, and it only took a moment for Alex to realized it and blush as hard as she did. His discomfort pleased Tristan. He’d thought he could trick him, and it had been turned on him. * * * * * Tristan’s satisfaction didn’t last. During their knife fight, he found his gaze drifting down and he had to fight to bring it and focus on the fight. The Alex he remembered hadn’t only been inept, he’d been plump, comfortable to hold, which Jack and enjoyed, but Tristan had considered a further indication the human was weak. This Alex’s body was toned. Lean muscles with scars spoke of a hard life. Of someone who’d stop being afraid and had gone out to confront the universe. Tristan felt something for that Alex. It wasn’t sexual, but it echoed off it and sent his thought down a path he didn’t want it to, so he buried that with the other emotions that didn’t serve him. * * * * * He dreamed again. He was outside, Alex was dancing before him, nude, excited. Tristan wanted him. He wanted him in ways that burned inside him, that hurt. He wanted to go to him, to take him and bury himself deep inside him until they were both screaming in pleasure. But he couldn’t go to him, and Alex was dancing further away. Chains held him back. He fought against them. He screamed for Alex to come back, but the human only smiled and continued dancing. Taking his seduction away. Tristan fought the chains, he pulled on them, yelled his frustration at being denied. He needed this human. He had to feel him against his fur, to enter him, fill him like he had never been filled before. With one supreme effort he pulled on the chains, and they broke. * * * * * Tristan opened his eyes, panting. When he pulled himself to a sitting position, his fingers stuck in the mattress. His claws had dug in and he had to pull to get them out. No. He didn’t want anything the human had to offer. His erection contradicted him. This time he had to make the shower scalding before his body gave up. That morning, when he attacked Alex, he was more vicious, using his claws to make the human bleed to punish him for what he was putting him through. Alex defended himself, using light boxes from around the room to take the brunt of the claws, and then pulling a knife from under a shelf to even the odds. Tristan didn’t care, he slashed at him, punched and kick. Alex retaliated as ferociously, inflicting more cuts and bruises on Tristan than he’d endured before. When finally Tristan shoved him away and stepped out of the room he was exhausted and hurting, but one thing was definite, he no longer wanted the human. That was how it should be. * * * * * It was how it was for the following weeks. Anytime Tristan felt something for the human, he attacked him, beating that emotion into submission. And Alex took it, learned and fought harder, which made Tristan feel other things for the human, things he wouldn’t feel for another person, things like admiration, respect. He buried those. Tristan was the only person who mattered he repeated to himself as he attacked the human. Anyone else, anything else was there for him to use. Tools in his ongoing quest to survive. To feel something, anything set things up for him to eventually be killed. That would not happen. So he fought harder. He fought Alex, he fought himself. He fought the universe. He wouldn’t lose. * * * * * The image wouldn’t leave him. Alex, sweaty, bloody, panting, hands on knees as he caught his breath. He was smiling, chuckling. They’d fought until both were out of breath, and Alex was enjoying himself. He was enjoying himself very much so. Tristan shoved the image away, buried it with the other things he felt about the human, and tried to focus on his current project. The Juriken Implacable was supposed to be the company’s masterpiece, even better than Titanial’s locks. A mix of mechanical lock, electronic and biometric sensor harder than— Alex was panting, and chuckling, the motion making his erection bounce and ways that inv— Tristan pushed the image away again. He’d done it on purpose. The human knew how he affected Tristan and was using that to distract him, to force him to make a mistake. Tristan slammed a fist on the table. He didn’t make mistakes. He was in control. He cursed as blood dripped on the table. He opened his hand, he’d dug his claws into his palm. He cleaned the mess, washed his hand, then applied sealant over the wounds. Alex had done this to him. He’d forced himself into Tristan’s life, made it so he couldn’t think properly, distracted him with his body. The human was looking to get Tristan killed. The human needed to be put in his place. He needed to be shown who was in charge here. An image came to him and he smiled, if the human wouldn’t understand the attacks for what they were. Tristan would show him in a different way. He went stalking to the house, looking for his victim.