A/N: Welcome to this "one-shot" (will be uploaded in several parts, so not really, more like drabbles of one-shot length) of my beautiful catboy, Atticus. To be clear, this story is set in a world where "pets" are basically human. So their mannersisms, ears, and tails are indicators to their true nature (as an animal), but otherwise look and talk like humans. When did I become this way? Not too sure.

Two days after his mama died, Atticus was put in the backseat of Ed's pickup and taken halfway across town. It wasn't his real mama, of course. Atticus had been taken way too young to remember anything about her – and if he tried he could only remember the big wooden box they shut him in and the inescapable darkness he thought would never end as he was shipped off to his new life. Still, Claire had been his mama for all intents and purposes; taking such good care of her exotic kitten and raising him past his first birthday – which on a cat's timeline was into the beginning of adulthood.

Ed had never liked Atticus. It was obvious to the cat that Ed thought he was in the way. It made sense then, as they ascended an elevator to a fancy looking apartment complex that Ed confessed he was giving Atticus away.

"I can't stand to look at you – you just remind me of her," Ed seethed, as if Atticus had any power to control this fact. "And you're not even a normal cat," he continued – a fact he regularly shoved in Atticus' face. "I could stand it if you were all cute and young, but you're bigger than me for crying out loud!" Admittedly, Ed was shorter than average, standing at about 5'6, but Atticus was a few inches taller and extremely lithe. It made managing him that much more difficult.

"Normal cats," Atticus hissed; ears bent at the idea. He'd encountered them before – sweet, young little things with adorable child-like faces. That's as far as the humans wanted them to grow – bio-engineered for their convenience. Atticus was certainly not a normal cat. He was, in fact, part of an experimental litter with a Canadian Lynx hybrid resulting in his mature stature; dark grey hair with black tips on his ears and wide golden eyes. Although, Claire had a way of making Atticus feel like he was special, he couldn't help but notice all of the stares that followed him. "Where are you taking me then?"

Ed didn't respond, leading the way down the hallway like a man with purpose. He cleared his throat and knocked twice on the door; a roaring "woof!" came from the other side and Atticus could feel his spine arch in a peculiar way – as if hair was raising all along his back; that was preposterous. He had no hair of that kind on his body at all; the only indicator of his feline nature being the ears on his head and the fluffier-than-average tail at the base of his spine.

The door opened to reveal a tired looking man in his mid-thirties. He appraised Ed with a sidelong glance and then took in Atticus next to him. "Hello Edward. What do I owe the pleasure?"

Atticus could tell the man was not exactly pleased by their presence, but was too much of a push-over to do anything about it. Ed took advantage of this weakness and pressed his way into the man's apartment – uninvited. "Well, you've heard about Claire, haven't you Charlie?" Atticus followed Ed through the door, bracing himself at the scent of another animal; a filthy dog.

Growling in the kitchen stood a tall, husky mix with canine teeth bared at Atticus, ice blue eyes issuing a challenge under a sweep of dark hair. The slits of Atticus' eyes narrowed, accepting the challenge as he stretched, rubbing his scent against a wall as he passed. The cat delighted in the husky's reaction – fangs bared and issuing a warning bark.

"Easy Bandit," Charlie said firmly, pulling back the dog's shoulder. Turning to Ed, Charlie managed a sincere look of empathy. "I did hear… I'm very sorry Edward. She was an amazing girl – I heard the funeral is this Saturday?"

Atticus made a mental note to ask just what the heck a funeral was as he circled the kitchen and finally adventured forward to the carpeted area of the living room. He could hear the low growls of the dog behind him, but didn't bother satisfying in another glance.

"Yes," Ed replied, although his voice seemed distant in the way that Atticus was only just getting used to since his mama's passing. "Anyway, I'm here to ask you a favor."

"Regarding the lynx?" Charlie asked, voice amused. "Let me guess, you need me to do some babysitting?"

Sighing, Ed confirmed the suspicion. "At least until I'm able to find an adoptive home for him. He's a handful. This is why I told Claire not to get him. She never listened to me…"

There was a silence as Atticus stopped mid-step; heart aching for a moment before he grew angry with himself. They were only humans, after all. He should stop getting so attached to them. They were only good for putting you in a box and sending you far away.

Atticus hated the inconvenience of being a pet.

"I don't think that's a good idea, old friend. Bandit needs a lot of attention, and he doesn't really like cats; or dogs."

Smiling, Atticus caught the strong scent of the canine and followed it to the only bedroom in the small apartment. The sheets of the mattress, the carpets – everything in the room reeked of this dog that spent too much time with his master. Atticus rubbed himself shamelessly against the sheets; ears still piqued interestedly towards the conversation in the kitchen as he imposed on the dog's territory.

"I beg you, Charlie. I have no one else. It's this or the shelter, and you're the only one I know who can deal with wild breeds."

Atticus clenched his jaw tightly at the words of his master. If he was just going to be tossed aside, he wouldn't go down without a fight. Springing off the bed, Atticus raced back towards the kitchen, startling the husky with his reappearance. But before he could get in a word, the two men were shaking hands amicably – deal made.

"Wait, you're really leaving me here with this dork and this dog?" Atticus shouted, unable to help his emotions boiling over. His master pulled an annoyed kind of face. "She would hate you for this you know."

"Watch it, Atticus," Ed said in warning. "Charlie is being kind enough to take care of you, and if you're just going to be a misbehaving burden I'll take you down to the shelter right now."

"Edward," Charlie interjected. "There's no need to be this harsh. He's just a kitten."

"I'm not a kitten," Atticus hissed, drawing himself up even higher than usual. He really didn't like Charlie, or his dumb dog, or anything about this apartment.

But Charlie only chuckled in amusement at Atticus' attitude. "Well he's certainly got a personality," Charlie commented to Ed as if the cat wasn't in the room. "I'll try my best to take care of him while you're gone, Edward, but please stop by on occasion. Separation is hard for animals."

Ed gave a final sneer before heading back to the entrance. "I'll transfer you the funds Claire left him with. It should be more than enough to sustain him."

With that, his master was gone for good. Atticus felt empty – felt a closing darkness around him that reminded him of that damn wooden box.

"Are you okay, Atticus?" Charlie asked, a concerned hand reaching to his ears.

The cat didn't think twice about it – instinctively hissed and swiped at the hand too close for comfort. "Don't touch me!" Atticus demanded, but before he could say anything else he was tackled to the ground by the beast of a dog.

Growling, Bandit the husky held the cat down – teeth going for his throat in a display of dominant protection of his master.

"Bandit! Stop!" Charlie ordered, horrified at the snarling canine on his floor. He tugged the wild dog off Atticus with some effort and then offered an apologetic glance towards the kitten. "I'm sorry, we will be more patient with you, Atticus. You have no reason to fear us. Bandit, you'd better behave."

The damn dirty dog smiled wickedly at the thought, but made no promises. Horrified, Atticus turned his back on the two of them and sat stubbornly in front of the door. He didn't budge or say anything the rest of the night, even as the human set down a neatly plated arrangement of fish and cheese in front of him two hours later.

"Please eat something, Atticus," the man implored.

Atticus refused to respond; eyes focused on the door, convincing himself his master would come back for him.

Well past midnight, the dog approached, sniffing curiously at Atticus' supper before helping himself. Atticus knew he shouldn't feel so pissed, but he couldn't help it. Living with this stupid, stinky dog was the worst part about this place.

"If you so much as touch Charlie again, I'll kill you," Bandit said with an eerie smile, chewing the fish as if daring Atticus to do something about it.

"I don't care about your master so long as he keeps his hands off me," Atticus seethed, back arching a little as the dog's eyes darkened threateningly.

A chuckle emerged from Bandit's throat. "Don't make me laugh – he pities you, which is more than you deserve. If it wasn't for him, you'd be my lunch."

Atticus turned his head away, purposefully ignoring the stupid beast at his side. Not only did he reek, he was damn annoying on top of everything else. He was pleased when the dog made an impatient noise and left him alone.

Atticus woke with the sound of a slamming door and he twisted uncomfortably from the small ball he'd curled himself into. His back was tense and he stretched every muscle languidly before his stomach rumbled. Staring down at the empty plate beside him, Atticus cursed the stupid wolf for eating his share.

After spending the night in front of the door stubbornly, Atticus finally decided to get up. He crept slowly into the living room, spotting the couch and the idiot dog strewn unceremoniously across it, completely asleep.

A moment later, Charlie appeared from the bathroom; toothbrush in his mouth. "Atticush!" he greeted, enthusiastic at the cat's reluctant venturing. At the feline's scowl, Charlie's smile faltered. Then, regaining himself he moved forward slowly, coming around and sitting next to the dog, spitting into a cup in his hand.

"I'm glad you are looking more comfortable today. Are you hungry?"

Atticus' ears flattened, torn between his stubborn desire to keep dishing the silent treatment, and his hunger made worse by the dog eating his dinner. His stomach got the better of him as ten minutes later Charlie – very gently – placed several slices of chicken on the counter.

"Bandit, down!" Charlie ordered, as the husky made his way over easily. Pissed, the dog stopped and crossed his arms, snarling at Atticus as he passed. The cat took a privileged seat at the counter and ate his breakfast gratefully. He was so busy eating he barely noticed Charlie's hand scratching just behind his ears. This human's caring touch was amazing, but at the very last bite Atticus removed himself and scampered into the bedroom.

It still smelled too much like that stupid dog, but Atticus flopped onto the mattress and curled up gratefully on a full stomach, with the warm sunshine coming through the window - sitting in the most comfortable spot in the house.

His thoughts drifted to Claire – how he missed her hand on his ears so much that he'd mistaken Charlie's touch for something similar. Atticus couldn't forget that he would be given up right away. Ed even said so! Still, Atticus couldn't help but feel at least a little bit comforted. Hugging Charlie's pillow, Atticus rolled and stretched out; taking up the entire space.

Interrupting his thoughts, Charlie entered the room cautiously – smiling at the feline spread out across his bed like he already owned it. "At least you're getting comfortable," Charlie said with a small chuckle.

Atticus resisted the urge to rip out the man's throat; he wouldn't get very far with the murder anyway. Instead he turned his head pointedly away and refused to look at him; tail swishing in a pissed off kind of way.

"It's okay; take your time, Atticus. I know this may be an adjustment for you."

The patience and understanding was lost on Atticus, who'd never experienced the kind of caring Charlie was showing him. He was used to being babied and spoiled by his mama, and hated and despised by Ed. There was no casual in-between.

"I'm heading to work now, and will be back a bit later. Keep Bandit company, alright?" Atticus hissed out loud at the thought, unable to contain his poisonous hate. This just made Charlie chuckle once again. "If you're good, I'll bring you home something really special. A nice treat."

Ears perking at the mention of a present, Atticus turned golden eyes back to Charlie with a surprising interest. Curiosity always got the better of him. "What sort of treat?" he asked immediately.

"It's a surprise," Charlie said with a sneaky sort of smile.

With that, the human left Atticus to cat-nap.

Around noon, the husky entered the bedroom and, growling at the sight of Atticus in his spot, woke the feline up with an impatient kick.

"Get out," Bandit snapped. "This is mine."

Atticus uncurled from a ball and stretched out even more; soaking in the rays of sun falling on Charlie's bed and ignoring the dog completely. It wasn't a very good idea, but Atticus would have rather died than shown the beast any kind of recognition.

Then, as Bandit grabbed at Atticus' legs to remove him by force, the cat flew on instinct and took a swipe; hissing and spitting at the dog's touch. Ears pressed flat against his head and tail sticking up straight, the wild cat glared at Bandit like he wished him to die.

"That's not very nice, Kitty," Bandit said, pleased with the cat's reaction – as if needing his attention validated. Dogs really were so stupid…

Atticus made a very primal noise in the back of his throat at Bandit, daring him to try it again – unblinking eyes fierce and challenging.

"Let's get one thing straight," Bandit continued, tail wagging happily despite the menacing look on his face. "Everything you see is mine. The bed is mine, the food is mine, and Charlie is mine. If you can see it, it's mine."

"I'm not yours" Atticus retorted.

"I don't want you - but the way I heard it, you're used to that."

Atticus ripped himself away from the mattress, out of the bedroom, turning down the hall with a final swish of his tail in the dog's general direction. Even at losing his temper, the cat didn't feel too bad about it as long as he got away from the territorial asshole. It was better, after all, that Atticus behave if he wanted his treat.

As the hours passed on, Atticus grew restless at Charlie's return. He watched the clock obsessively from a corner of the living room, sitting peacefully but guarded; the dog snoring comfortably in the bedroom. The cat couldn't help but think it was unbearably lonely. He'd endured the last two days with Ed, but he'd never been left alone like this.

He felt stir crazy.

The door opened at precisely five thirty and Bandit was first to greet Charlie. Atticus didn't hide his disgust at the sight; the dog so pleased as Charlie petted him fondly. The young man turned his glance sideways to Atticus and smiled at the bitter look.

"Hello, Atticus!" he greeted cheerfully, offering a tentative hand towards the feline that Atticus turned his nose to. "Were you good? I haven't forgotten my promise you know… I have your treat."

"Wait, why does the Kitty get a treat?" Bandit asked suddenly, fangs bared at Atticus. "What about me?"

As if the dirty dog deserved anything for kicking him out of the bedroom so rudely.

"Don't worry, you get something too, Bandit," Charlie confirmed. Atticus pretended to be disinterested as Charlie took off his shoes, set down a bag of groceries, and took a seat on the couch facing the corner Atticus had holed himself in.

"Come closer," Charlie laughed, expecting Atticus to forgive him for the lonely day just like that. Bandit bounded over at once, scrambling to sit beside Charlie and get his present too. Finally, just to piss the dog off some more, Atticus reluctantly moved forward; sliding along the carpet slowly. "That's right, Atticus, I have a treat for you," the human encouraged, reaching into his suit pocket and withdrawing a plush fish. "A fishie!"

Bandit grabbed for it at once, but Atticus made a face as if he didn't really care.

"No! Bandit, this is not yours!"

Atticus took a little bit of pleasure in these words. Bandit – who was just going on about how everything was his just hours ago – clearly had no ownership of this stupid fish toy. So Atticus took it tentatively.

Almost immediately, he was overcome by a powerful aroma. The fish had a delicate, hypnotizing scent that pulled the feline in and made his cheeks water. It was a sweet fragrance that reminded Atticus of the outdoors. He felt the instinct to chew it take over everything, and delighted in the sensations coursing through him as he mouthed his toy.

A mighty purr echoed in his chest, and even the sound of Charlie laughing wasn't as annoying as it usually was.

"A catnip fishie," Charlie said matter-of-factly. "I thought you could relax a bit."

"Where's mine?" Bandit snapped immediately, ice blue eyes dark with spiteful greed at the sight of Atticus with a toy. Charlie produced a squeaky ball, but the husky was impatient with his master.

"No – I want that."

Despite being lost to many wonderful sensations, this made Atticus the happiest. He held his toy protectively as his eyes dared the dog to come and get it.

"I'm sorry, Bandit. That's a kitty-toy. It only works for Atticus."

"I don't care. I want it," Bandit continued stubbornly. His demands fell on deaf ears as Charlie turned to watch the cat in enraptured amusement.

"I didn't think it would work so quickly," Charlie said. "How do you feel, Atticus?" The human offered his hand once more and this time Atticus couldn't help the powerful, uncontrollable desire to press himself against it. He pushed his head into Charlie's hand and opened his mouth in pleasure at the feeling of the man's fingers scratching right behind his ear. Atticus' purring was much louder, and it filled the small living room. "Good Kitty," Charlie said happily. "See, I want to be friends, okay?"

Atticus' cheeks swelled as the catnip took over – pupils widening and a bit of drool leaking from his open mouth as he crawled on all fours closer to the couch; closer to Charlie instinctively. The man scratched under his chin; swept his fluffy hair side to side; and Atticus acted like it had been more than a few days since he'd last been touched like this.

"What about me?" the dog asked.

"Bandit do you want to pet the Kitty too?"

The feline wasn't sure about this – but was too powerless to do anything under the influence of the catnip. As Atticus turned curious eyes to the husky he was surprised to see Bandit wagging his tail excitedly; moving forward and reaching out a hand too.

Atticus was amazed that the dog's touch wasn't too bad either – it wasn't as careful or gentle as Charlie but was enjoyable all the same. Bandit smiled as he touched Atticus, although it carried something that the cat couldn't quite place, but was definitely familiar. At the smile, Atticus felt something distant in the pit of his stomach; a kind of foreign excitement. He mew'ed needily, rubbing his head into the dog's hand in a shameless way, body growing hotter every minute.

"Okay, that's enough," Charlie instructed seriously. "We don't want to overstimulate him. I'll make some dinner now."

So it was five minutes later that Atticus had enough strength in his body to stop trembling and drooling on the couch in such a disgraceful manner. He'd been sure – for a moment at least when the dog was petting him – he'd felt a powerful, raw urge. But that was lost on him now.

In the end, Charlie's treat had worked. Atticus recovered from the catnip after a hearty supper and he realized he was less wary of the man. Sudden movements didn't make Atticus jump in a nervous way at all, and by the end of the night Atticus was getting cozy to Charlie's feet.

Hearing a low growl, Atticus pressed his ears flat against his head. Bandit was getting way too worked up about sharing his stupid master, but Atticus knew he could play the kitten card.

As Charlie prepared for bed, Atticus hopped onto the mattress and curled up at the foot of the bed with a few playful flicks of his tail. Too pleased with how content Atticus seemed to be, Charlie did not even protest; taking pity on the orphaned feline.

Bandit, however, barked angrily. "What about me?" he asked for the millionth time.

Charlie raised a hand in warning to the husky. "Now Bandit, its Atticus' turn okay?"

The stupid dog didn't understand. He glared resentfully as Atticus smiled at him – twisting his torso towards Charlie as the man scratched him once more before bedtime.

Atticus could not have been more satisfied with putting the dog in its place. Bandit growled low any time Atticus gave him a taunting stare; territorial instinct on fire. Charlie, fast asleep, did not know any better, but would surely have scolded the husky even more.

Past midnight, the dirty dog got up and wandered out of the bedroom. Atticus was half-inclined to follow the beast but stretched lazily across the foot of the bed instead.

It wasn't until Charlie woke up and promised breakfast that Atticus encountered the sleeping form of Bandit in the living room; surrounded by piles of fluff and grass.

"Bandit!" Charlie shouted, having surveyed the scene as well. "What did you do?" The human reached for a pile of the fluff as Bandit woke; ears drooping and tail tucking between his legs. Atticus knew what had happened – his toy had been torn apart by this wild wolf. "I can't believe you, just what were you thinking? This was Atticus' toy!"

The husky did not reply; his ice blue eyes were fixed on a point somewhere far off in the distance and he bowed his head low as Charlie approached him.

Charlie may have been about to scold him more, but one look at Bandit made the man sigh and press his hands to his temples – regaining lost patience.

"I'm sorry, Atticus. It's an adjustment for everyone I suppose…"

Truthfully, the cat didn't care too much about his toy – not as much as he cared for Bandit's guilty look. Still, Atticus remained silent as Charlie cleaned up the mess and began to get ready for work.

The idea of being left alone for so long again made Atticus edgy and agitated as he ate his breakfast. There was nothing to do in this small apartment he had to share with canine trash. If only he were allowed to venture outside, but to do so he'd have to wear a collar – and Atticus was too proud for that kind of nonsense. It meant Charlie would be his master, and there was no way that was happening – Atticus didn't want another master giving him up and who knew how much longer he was spending here?

Perhaps today would be the day that Ed stopped by.

At the thought, Atticus' tail began swishing hopefully and he glanced at the door as if expecting to see his previous owner there. It was an odd sense of dependence he felt for his master; something he couldn't shake in a day.

As soon as Charlie left for work, Bandit turned to Atticus and - with a wicked bark - set off after the cat in an epic chase around the small apartment. Atticus couldn't help as instinct took over; the hair on his neck stood up and he just barely escaped the beast's claws as he managed to stay just one small step ahead of the wolf. It didn't last long as finally, with a strong pull, the cat was brought down to the carpet in the living room. Bandit pinned the writhing, hissing cat in place before pressing sharp teeth against Atticus' neck in warning. The bite was in such a spot that Atticus froze completely – controlled by something more primal than he would have liked.

It lasted several moments, but to Atticus it seemed like an eternity. The dog's hot breath on his neck and the sharp teeth mixing with low, threatening growls had Atticus at least a little worried for his well-being. Although it was just a display of dominance, Atticus felt like he'd rather die than submit. Still, he didn't have much of a choice with his throat pressed against sharp fangs.

"Get off me," Atticus managed, after Bandit's growling became noticeably less ferocious. "Or I will tell the human."

Removing his teeth, but not making any effort to un-pin the feline, Bandit laughed with a short, harsh bark. "Ha! I bet I could rip out your throat and he wouldn't even blink."

Atticus tried not to react, but he was a wild cat by nature and could not help the growl in his throat at the dog's threat. Pressed into the carpet with the beast on top of him, the cat was feeling too warm; he struggled weakly now that his neck wasn't being chewed.

It seemed impossible that he had let this stupid dog pet him last night.

"I thought I made myself clear yesterday, Kitty," Bandit said quietly. "Stay out of the way."

Atticus wanted to protest. He hadn't asked for Charlie's attention, although the unbearable loneliness had made it easy to accept. It was unfair to expect him to stay out of the way if – when he tried – it only made the human more persistent.

"Get. Off. Me," Atticus repeated – the thick scent of the dog overwhelming him.

"Not until you promise to be a good Kitty," Bandit said, amusement obvious in his voice. Atticus could see that satisfied look of dominance on the dog's face in his mind, and it made him sick.

"Take the toys, take the bed, and take the human," Atticus hissed. "I don't want them anyway!"

He was released after that. The large husky stood up, leaving Atticus rubbing at his sore arms, before marching into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. The cat briefly considered running away. Nothing was tying him to this stupid apartment, and if he got picked up during his escape, he would be brought back to Ed.

But, with a resigned sigh, Atticus understood that it would be the shelter after that, and surely putting up with the dog's tantrums was better than a cage.

It was another long, unbearable kind of day. Atticus ventured to the balcony of the apartment and sat in the sunshine for the afternoon as Bandit kept his distance; playing with the new squeaky ball in the bedroom. Atticus was bothered by the ceaseless noise, but at least on the balcony it was somewhat peaceful.

Charlie was home at five o'clock – slightly earlier than the previous day but without any new toys. The man was greeted at once by Bandit; lifting his master on the spot with a big squeeze (easy enough as he stood well over six feet) and giving a disgusting lick to Charlie's face. Atticus feigned disinterest, but it was harder than he thought it would be to fight off the urge to go and greet him too. It was just beyond his control after such a boring, restless day.

The human patted Bandit on the head, set down his bag, and scanned the room for Atticus. He frowned thoughtfully as he took in the feline's bitter stare for the second day in a row. "What's the matter, Atticus? Won't you come greet me?"

It was almost too much. Atticus felt enraged at the idea he would ever drop to the dog's level; greeting his master so inappropriately. Besides that, his hands were tied with the warning Bandit had made clear earlier; so he pointedly turned his head back towards the balcony – fixated on the birds flying by.

Ignoring the human just made him try harder. Charlie approached Atticus cautiously before squatting some distance away, caring eyes imploring the cat to communicate. Like an idiot, Bandit forced himself in the way – sprawling on his back and wiggling excitedly for attention. Charlie couldn't help but scratch the dog's belly – slightly exposed due to the t-shirt riding up against the carpet – but he fixated on the cat patiently.

"Didn't you miss me?" Charlie prompted, a little hurt at the cold shoulder. "Don't you want some pets, too?"

Atticus hissed, eyeing Bandit with unrivaled revulsion at the sickening display. The husky's icy eyes sparkled innocently as he soaked up the attention; as if daring the cat to do anything more. Continuing to ignore the situation, Atticus tried to focus on those birds once again. It wasn't until Charlie came very close that the feline was forced to arch his back and issue a warning growl.

"Are you not feeling well? I can schedule an appointment to the vet," Charlie considered, as if this was the only possible answer to Atticus' behaviour. The cat nodded, desperate to make him stop and go away.

And so, five minutes later Charlie was on the phone with the pet hospital, booking an appointment first thing the next morning. Bandit remained in his spot – spread out on his back on the carpet right in front of Atticus, who didn't bother paying the beast any attention either. If he had to ignore Charlie, then he would do his best and ignore the dog, too. Atticus turned on the spot, curling into a comfortable position facing the wall before closing his eyes.

"Bandit! Leave Atticus alone – he's not feeling well. Come here." The orders startled Atticus slightly, wondering exactly what the dog had been about to do. He had a feeling that no matter what the dog demanded, Atticus would lose.

Much later, when Charlie was soundly asleep, Bandit sauntered from the bedroom towards the living room with a deplorable grin on his face. Atticus had taken the opportunity to finally finish the supper set before him, and he was happy he did so, knowing the dog's appetite. Still, at the sight of the canine, the hair on Atticus' neck stood up and his ears flattened – hissing in warning as he approached.

"Ssh, Kitty," Bandit whispered. "Or Charlie will wake up."

Not really caring either way, Atticus glared daggers before asking, "What do you want, dog?"

"Let's play," Bandit said with an eerie smile; tail wagging back and forth. "I'm bored."

It was probably the last thing on Earth that Atticus wanted to do. The cat frowned at the difference in the dog's behavior; from threatening him just earlier that day to excitedly eager to interact. "Go die." Atticus turned his nose at the beast. It was definitely a trick, and he wasn't going to fall for it.

However, Bandit took out some fluff from the pocket of his jeans and produced it in his hand – tempting the cat's curiosity. "Look, I still have some of your toy, Kitty."

Sure enough, mixed with the bits of fluff was some of the fabric from the fish; a generous amount of the catnip pouring from the tattered remains. Atticus' ears perked and he couldn't help but draw closer with a curious sniff of the air.

"Give me it," Atticus demanded as the scent captured him once more; fainter this time but still making his mouth water.

The dog's tail picked up speed, excited the cat was playing his game. "Ask nicely, Kitty."

"It's my toy," Atticus reminded with a huff, but as Bandit closed his fist over the remaining bits and made to put it away, the cat gave in – driven by a powerful attraction to the catnip. "Fine! Please give me the toy."

"Say Master," Bandit urged with a terrible smile – emphasized by the darkness of the living room.

The idea was preposterous. There was absolutely no way...

"Like hell I will," Atticus growled. His ears pressed back, quickly losing patience with the beast and fighting some instinct to leap from his spot and attempt to take back what was his by force. However, the reminder of his loss from earlier in the day and the fact that Charlie was sleeping kept Atticus seated.

"It's just a game," Bandit shrugged casually. "If you don't want to play…"

The terrible feeling of being torn in two overcame the wild cat. His pride battled with instinct, and the catnip won easily. Atticus' ears were practically glued to his head in discomfort; he couldn't look at the dog as he muttered, "Please give me the toy, Master."

Even though it was a game, and said in desperation, Atticus couldn't help the chill along his spine at the word being used for the disgusting dog. He didn't have time to think about it too much; Bandit made good on his word and handed the rest of the torn up toy to him, tail wagging so much it made thumping noises against the carpet.

Once again, the catnip's effects were nearly immediate. Atticus' heart pounded with the rush of blood through his body; pupils widening; senses igniting; cheeks watering as he rubbed himself into the grass without any shame. The deep, rumbling purring started from the hollow of his chest and filled the quiet of the dark living room to accompany the thumping of Bandit's tail. It was an incredible, all-consuming fixation as Atticus relaxed and enjoyed the remaining pieces of his toy.

After a moment, Bandit reached out to scratch Atticus behind his ears. Instead of turning away stubbornly, the lynx drew towards him and took delight in the dog's touch. It really was amazing under the spell of the catnip; his body exploding with something totally unfamiliar. He purred hard and crawled with trembling arms towards Bandit; rubbing his cheeks against the cross-legged knees of the beast before him.

Scratching under the cat's chin, Bandit chuckled – totally entertained. Atticus couldn't help but thoroughly lose all control at the spine-tingling contact. His mouth opened to lick the wolf's hand in an affectionate kind of way – playfully nipping at Bandit's fingers as his rough tongue swallowed the beast's taste. "Good Kitty. Don't bite…" the dog encouraged.

There was that heat - bursting out from Atticus' stomach and enveloping his whole body. It was unlike anything Atticus had ever felt before and he had been spoiled with thorough petting by Claire most of his life. The poor cat could barely make sense of his actions; driven by compulsive instinct he climbed onto Bandit's lap, body writhing with overstimulation. He purred excitedly as the canine's hands moved along his neck, down his spine, scratching right above his tail and making him melt completely.

"Ssh," Bandit said, because Atticus was definitely making too much noise. Little "mews" escaped him as tight fists held on to Bandit's shirt – rubbing his face into it and inhaling the, normally disgusting, scent. The hot breath of the dog on his ear wasn't helping Atticus stay quiet, either. It made him impossibly warmer – open mouth panting at the heat.

The sight of Atticus barely holding it together; face pressed against Bandit's chest; ass wiggling in the air as the wolf raked along his back, would have made Charlie faint. "Nnn-mmmeow."

"Damnit, be quiet Kitty," Bandit growled. He pulled the purring feline up so that Atticus was on his knees, looking back with delirious pleasure. It didn't matter what happened as long as Bandit continued to pet him; Atticus mewed in objection when the dog stopped to position him upright. Canine teeth bared, the dog pressed his mouth against Atticus' neck – biting softly before sticking out his tongue and licking the sensitive area as if it were a delicious treat. Bandit grabbed Atticus' hips, holding him steady as the weak-kneed feline could barely cope with the sensation of being groomed this way.

It was too much; the beast's rough tongue on his sensitive neck was making Atticus crazy; body writhing as teeth scraped his skin. Bandit growled possessively and Atticus could feel it all the way down to his toes – particularly a swelling, aching awareness in his lower body that was encouraging this irrational behavior.


Atticus never knew he could enjoy being devoured, yet here he was barely able to keep himself upright; in seventh heaven as coat after coat of saliva was applied to him by this wolf's tongue.

Then, without warning, Bandit froze. The dog's ears twitched towards the bedroom and he un-handed the mewing cat suddenly. Atticus flopped weakly onto the carpet without Bandit to hold him up. He was disappointed, but it didn't matter - the carpet felt pretty good too. He rubbed his face into the fibers as Charlie appeared in the hallway, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"What are you two doing out here?" the human asked with a yawn.

"Playing," Bandit answered easily, getting up and drawing nearer to his master.

Charlie was too tired to bother questioning why Atticus was now purring contentedly into the rug, so he simply shrugged as if it wasn't that extraordinary. "I thought I told you to leave the kitty alone?"

The wolf smiled dumbly following Charlie back into the bedroom and leaving Atticus contentedly purring on the carpet.

A/N: So I had Atticus as a character in my mind for quite some time. Originally, the idea was a wild cat taking advantage of his owner. But then Bandit came to me, and it was too hard to resist. o/o~!

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the characters and setting - even complain about the tease for crying out loud, I'll take anything I can get!