#ambathy

Addison was not a small man. He wasn't heavy set, but he was broad. He'd been so for as long as he could remember. Square-shaped - with a stern jaw and broad shoulders and a presence that couldn't be missed. Those were all the nice words, anyway - the things people said to compliment and to soften the edge of their words derived from appraising looks Addison had never asked for. His mother, Addison thought, had said it the best - Addison was built like the broad side of a barn. 

Maybe that was why he couldn't stop staring, now. His hand - his 'big, strong hand' - was absolutely eclipsed where it laid in the palm of Trep's. Addison watched, intent on his own movements, as he traced his fingers along the Impostor's skin. He looped around the curve of one mountainous finger, lingered over a heavily calloused knuckle as big as his own hand, and slid carefully along the length of a massive and deadly-sharp claw. Addison pressed a finger against the tip of Trep's claw - and the small pinch of pain sent an electric thrill down to his toes. 

Trep gave a soft rumble - a noise Addison might have called a purr, if he weren't worried he'd spook Trep right back into his human form. It'd taken more than a little coaxing to get Trep to show Addison his real form - and Addison wasn't interested in letting Trep change back any time soon. 

"So small," Trep said, the teasing in his voice obvious, even though it was a distorted rumble as it slipped from his abdominal maw - the only mouth he had, in this form. Trep slipped his hand away from Addison's - and the man nearly complained, until he felt that same hand wrap carefully but securely around his torso. Addison couldn't help but suck in a breath as Trep all at once lifted him. 

"We can't all be giant Impostors," Addison answered. Trep's massive form shook with a laugh, even as he held Addison up and slowly began to settle the rest of his body against the ground. A heavy, balancing tail swept around to lie longways against Trep's body, and once the Impostor had laid down fully he tucked Addison close. 

Trep lets Addison live longer than is likely proper. The excuses are easy to come by - he's still healing, he's not at his prime, Trepper is clearly attached to the human - but eventually the excuses fall away, and Trep turns instead to not thinking about it. There is time yet, plenty of it in fact, before they get to Earth. There's no harm in letting the human live a little longer - especially as he's so willing to babysit in the meanwhile. 

Trep thinks he may even let Addison live until they very nearly land - at least, he considers it, right up until he realizes the bodies they feed on have turned. It's Trepper who clues him in - the whelp seems to pick up the subtle scent of rot first, and even he refuses to eat spoiled flesh. 

There are ways around it, of course. They can both live just fine off of the humans' meals - and now with so few mouths to feed, there are plenty of extra rations. MREs are not nearly so satisfying, though, and it's difficult to imagine living off of them when there remains fresh meat. 

Days tick by where they try it, anyway - but Trepper is unhappy and if Trep is honest he's not much better off himself. He grows hungry, and then ravenous, and it's not so much about the sustenance as it is about the sensations. There is nothing satisfying about badly packed, disgusting 'meat' that might make you sick if you're unlucky - it is nothing like hunting. Sinking teeth into fresh, still moving flesh. Ripping, tearing - it torments Trep. 

When it becomes too much, he decides he's had enough. There comes a night where Trep settles Trepper down as usual and then, once the child is deeply asleep, Trep slips away. 

He finds Addison quickly enough, of course, but he's not willing to give the game up so quickly. So, Trep hunts - he follows the human about as Addison finishes up a few wayward tasks. Trep slips through the vents, along the hallways, watches from corners. 

He can tell when Addison realizes something's wrong - whether it's because of Trep's absence or some human prey instinct. The man's pulse spikes, anxiety thickens the air - it makes Trep's blood pound in turn, his hearts speed in anticipation of the kill.

Trep makes his move as Addison strides in a quickened pace down the hallway to his quarters. The Impostor leaps from a nearby vent and lunges - he pins Addison to the wall, the human's front pressed to the metal, and keeps him trapped there with claws and tentacles and sheer strength. 

Wordlessly, Addison fights - and Trep is taken off guard by the human"s ferocity. It's not enough to move Trep, of course - he has already had his fun and now that his prey is caught, he isn't interested in playing around. He is stronger, by far, than Addison - and it is easy to keep the man pinned. Still, it's impressive just how much strength Addison brings to bear. 

Trep can't stop a slight curve in his lips as the human thrashes beneath him. 

"Get the fuck off of me," Addison finally finds his voice, and in response Trep hums. 

"Sorry Captain, no can do," he answers, even as he shifts a little closer, eyes finding the back of Addison's neck. "For what it's worth, you might be the only human I've ever really found pleasant to be around. Still, I'm starving - and unfortunately for you, you're the only meal left around."

"We had a deal," Addison spits. He kicks back with a leg, and Trep growls softly as it connects rather solidly with a knee. As if in retort, Trep's abdominal maw parts, drool gathers in anticipation - but even as he lowers the mouth in his face towards Addison's neck, he can't help but banter in return. 

"More fool you for trusting an Impostor," Trep murmurs. He parts his jaws, turns his head, and latches them around the back of Addison's neck. He presses, slightly, and as he does he feels Addison go all at once still as stone - except for his pulse, which is racing so quickly it's hard to separate the beats from each other. Trep feels a thrill at the way it races beneath his teeth. 

All it would take is one clean bite. Simple. Efficient. A quick death, even, for a human Trep reluctantly admired. And yet. 

Yet. 

Trep finds himself struck nearly as still as Addison. Flesh is almost broken beneath his teeth but - not quite. Blood rushes at the surface of Addison's skin, but does not yet flood Trep's mouth. Flesh, prey, a real meal - it is at his mercy but still Trep can't move. 

Beneath the bitter, salty scent of fear there is something else. Something familiar, although Trep hasn't ever put a name to it before. It is Addison - a scent unique to the human, a scent that has invaded more of Trep's surroundings than he has realized. A scent that, through the bloodlust and the hunger, registers as familiar. Important. 

Safe. 

Trep growls, but despite his urging his teeth do not clamp any further. Addison trembles - it and his stillness the only outward signs of fear the human has shown. Because Addison is strong. Addison, who looked an injured and violent Impostor in the eye and still helped him. Addison, who only held on and did his best to calm the small Impostor desperate to hurt him. 

Addison, who sings to Trepper when he thinks they're alone. Who treats the boy like his own. Who speaks to Trep like an equal - banters with him in a way he has never experienced before. 

Trep is ravenous, wants nothing more than something fresh and alive to fill his stomach. To feed his child. 

But this is Addison. 

And Trep can't do it. 

His teeth loosen, he relinquishes his many grips. He steps away, suddenly more unsure than he has ever been in his life. His hearts still pound, but their beat feels different now. His blood still runs hot, but he thinks it must be for another reason. 

Then Addison looks over his shoulder - dark eyes full of confusion meet Trep's.