A mystic might spend a lifetime fruitlessly honing their mind and body to be able to separate their soul from its cage of flesh—to astral project and explore realms beyond the material. Tristan, on the other hand, felt as if he’d spontaneously developed the capability in recent days.

He was at his desk. Physically, at least. He’d been there for two or three hours—he wasn’t entirely sure—but he hadn’t accomplished much of anything. He simply couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on the work that needed doing.

Tristan’s mind was elsewhere. It was in an entirely different moment altogether. He was back home, earlier that morning, reliving the breakfast that had just occurred over and over again.

While the food had been good, it wasn’t so incredible that Tristan would go back to it over and over again. No, the food wasn’t the reason he was thinking about breakfast. Although, he supposed that some people would argue that there was sausage involved. Decidedly more sausage than he’d ever have imagined, if he was being honest.

Tristan knew that he couldn’t have been the only one that noticed what was going on at home. Something wasn’t quite right. People were acting weird. They used to be such a physically affectionate family, but now everyone was so jumpy around one another.

He wasn’t any better, if he was being honest with himself. It had to do with the problem he’d been having ever since their encounter with that new criminal, Chimera. The last time he was this horny was a few years ago, when he started college.

Fuck, Tristan couldn’t help but think to himself. He’d been wild back then. Indulging in passions left and right. Anything and everything short of going all the way—because he just hadn’t been willing to risk his future like that.

In any case, Tristan guessed that Marcus and Leo were feeling the same way as him. It wasn’t like they had anything to hide from each other; nor could they hide anything from one another.

It was funny. Trevor had always been sex-positive as a parent and yet, somehow, they were still pretty cagey about sex. They were all men. They all knew what the others did behind closed doors to blow off steam. And yet, it just felt weird to be open about that stuff with each other, so the first instinct was to avoid exposing each other to the more embarrassing but perfectly natural functions of their bodies.

Now that he was thinking about him, though, Tristan couldn’t help but note that in their little family unit, there was no one acting more out of character than their dad—than Trevor. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the bombshell that Trevor had dropped this morning.

His dad was dating a guy.

Tristan hadn’t even realized what Trevor was implying until Marcus pointed it out. The idea of it had never crossed his mind. Not because he was homophobic or anything, but because he’d assumed that Trevor was straight.

From the moment that Trevor took him in, to the day that he was adopted, until just a scant few minutes before everything took a turn earlier this morning, Tristan never had a reason to question whether his dad was anything but a red-blooded heterosexual man.

Tristan, for his part, was definitely straight. He just wasn’t attracted to men. He could recognize when men were attractive, but he’d never been, himself attracted to men. He was never going to be. And up until just this morning, he was pretty sure his dad wasn’t, either.

He didn’t have anything against gay people. His brother Marcus was gay, and he loved Marcus just as much as the rest of his siblings. He’d just never imagined that Trevor would be.

Even if Trevor hadn’t actually dated in years, that didn’t mean that Trevor was entirely without libido. Tristan wasn’t blind. He’d seen women catch Trevor’s attention. If he was being honest, all this time he’d thought that he and Trevor had the same type, which was why he couldn’t help but notice whenever his dad’s gaze chased after a woman. It was a thing they never openly talked about, but he’d always felt like it was something that brought them closer.

Tristan supposed his dad could be bisexual, which, again, was perfectly valid. He didn’t dislike the idea of his dad being gay. He just couldn’t reconcile it with the image of the man that he had in his head.

Maybe he just never noticed that side of his dad, though. It wasn’t like he spent every hour of the day with Trevor. But he didn’t like the thought that he could have been so oblivious this whole time. He felt like he should have picked up on it, at least—that he should have noticed some signs.

Tristan was aware that it could be nothing but paranoia on his part, but he still felt like it was something that they needed to keep an eye on. The news came out of nowhere at a time when things at home were weird. It didn’t feel right, though he couldn’t for the life of him put a finger on why.

He’d brought his concerns to Derek after breakfast, but Derek had just pretended not to know what Tristan was talking about. It had been an obvious lie, unless Derek had suddenly gone blind these last few days. When he pushed the subject, Derek had categorically refused to continue the conversation altogether.

Now Tristan was at a bit of a loss. Trevor had always taught them to be vigilant, and he’d taken that lesson to heart, especially ever since he started working at the local precinct. There was no telling where trouble could come from, nor what form that trouble would take, so it was important to always be prepared.

As far as Tristan was concerned, a sudden, dramatic, and seemingly inexplicable personality shift was exactly the kind of warning sign that should have gotten him and his brothers freaking out. He felt like an idiot for being the only one worked up about this, but he did think the others were rug-sweeping for Trevor’s sake.

It wasn’t that Tristan didn’t understand the sentiment. He’d never really seen Trevor in a proper good mood and it was nice seeing their adoptive father smiling again. And despite his misgivings, he had to admit that Trevor’s newfound energy was infectious.

Tristan didn’t want to spoil their dad’s happiness, but he couldn’t help but wonder whether it counted if that happiness was fake. Wouldn’t it be better to face the truth than to live the lie?

He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. But if he was being honest, his turmoil wasn’t entirely about Trevor. He’d never admit it out loud, but there was a part of him that wanted it to be fake. A side-effect of their battle with Chimera.

Random boners weren’t the only thing making things awkward at home, at least for Tristan. He’d been feeling things that didn’t make sense—feeling things that he knew, deep in the core of his being, were wrong things.

Tristan clutched the armrests of his office chair. He shouldn’t have let his thoughts wander this way. Fuck.

His knuckles turned white. His cock twitched. He fought down the arousal, but he was well on his way to popping a full stiffy. He fought it—valiantly—but he was half-hard before he knew it.

The boners weren’t random. That was the truth that Tristan was too ashamed to admit. They came whenever he thought about his dad. His dad. It was bad enough that a guy was making Tristan’s body act this way, but the fact that it was his own adoptive father that was causing this made it 10x worse.

Tristan shifted in his chair to alleviate the discomfort of his tailbone digging into the padded seat. He leaned forward, propping up his forehead on the palms of his hands.

He’d known his fair share of intrusive thoughts, but they never usually lingered like this. He felt like he was in a second, more twisted version of puberty. It was as if his body had suddenly and catastrophically lost all sense of the discipline and self-control that he’d trained in all these years.

Tristan could barely control himself. His cock went rigid whenever it wanted to, all day, every day since the confrontation with Chimera. He was pretty much hard the whole time he was at home, and he didn’t even know why.

Well, he did know why, he just didn’t want to acknowledge that it could be the reason. Because it was dirty. It was filthy. It was perverse. And worst of all, it was objectively, indisputably, morally wrong.

Sweat trickled down the side of Tristan’s face. The urge to stick a hand down the front of his pants was nigh-overwhelming. He’d never been this horny in his life and there was only one thing that he could blame—one thing that he didn’t want to blame because acknowledging it made it true and it couldn’t be true. Because he was a normal person. He was a good person. He wasn’t a freak.

The unfortunate truth was that Tristan didn’t have unlimited willpower either. He released the armrest, his hand sliding into the space between his legs. He squeezed the outline of his cock through his pants, exerting every ounce of mental strength that he had left in an attempt to stifle the moan that threatened to spill from him.

Despite his best efforts to push it aside, the very image that Tristan wanted least to remember came to the very forefront of his mind. It was that morning, at breakfast. He’d spotted something strange out of the corner of his eye. He’d turned to look and saw that Trevor was standing behind him and slightly off to the side.

Trevor had worn running shorts. This alone would have been unremarkable but said shorts barely extended past Trevor’s groin. They were so short that Trevor’s ass practically hung out of the bottom.

The most attention-grabbing bit, perhaps, wasn’t even how tight those shorts clung to the contours of Trevor’s body. No. What truly drew Tristan’s gaze was the obscene lump of Trevor’s fat erection pinned against his thigh.

Tristan’s cock jumped. No matter how much he tried to resist it, he was hard before he knew it. He was harder than he had ever been, even though he wasn’t exactly a virgin. His own adoptive father made him harder than any of the women he’d been with. It was perverse but neither could he stop thinking about it.

He hated how much it turned him on, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. Trevor was huge, he’d always known that, but he’d never known it like this. He was more intimately familiar now with his dad’s cock than he ever thought he would be and the worst part was that his thoughts kept turning to it.

Tristan had never seen dicks that big outside of porn—not that he’d ever made a habit of looking at guys’ cocks. He was definitely not interested in what other guys were packing, least of all his own dad, but it was just so fucking big.

He needed to bust a nut. That was for sure. As much as he hated the idea that thinking about Trevor had put him in this state, he had to face the facts: he wasn’t going to get much work done if he was like this.

Tristan couldn’t stop touching himself. He rubbed his fingers up and down along the sides of his cock, stroking his arousal through the fabric of his pants. He was this close to just whipping his cock out and jerking off in the middle of his office.

Fuck. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He was supposed to have the mental fortitude and the willpower to fight his baser instincts, but he just couldn’t.

Tristan groaned under his breath. His whole body was tense. There was sweat trickling down the side of his face. His dick was pulsing like crazy, throbbing with every beat of his heart.

He hoped no one came looking for him because he couldn’t stand up right now. If he ended up having to, he’d become a laughingstock at the precinct. Because there was nothing around to help him hide the lump in his pants, especially when he was leaking so much that his dick was making a large wet spot at the tip of his dick print.

Tristan was so, so close. He hadn’t even really done anything yet, just rubbing his dick through his pants. But the last thing he wanted was to blow a load at work, and to thoughts of his dad, no less.

He tried to turn his thoughts elsewhere, but his brain had other ideas. The memory of what happened just after breakfast this morning surfaced against his will.

---

“I should probably get going… I wouldn’t want to be late,” said Leo.

He grabbed his plate and was just about to get up when Trevor cut in. “Leave it. I’ll take care of tidying up.”

Derek, of course, had something to say about that. “The rule is that whoever cooks doesn’t have to do the dishes, Dad,” he said.

“I know,” said Trevor with a laugh. "And I made the rule. So I can choose to suspend enforcement if I want to. And I’m feeling pretty generous today. No harm in changing things up now and then."

Leo chuckled. “Well, I’m not going to complain about that. Thanks, Dad,” he said. “Anyway, I’m off. Hope you all have a nice day.”

“Have a safe trip,” Trevor called out.

“I should go too…” Derek seemed uncharacteristically quiet—uncharacteristically out of it—“I’m going to go downstairs to get everything set up for the morning classes.”

“And I’m gonna head back to my room for a bit, if no one minds,” said Marcus, shortly after Derek had left.

Tristan had finished already, but didn’t quite feel like getting up from his seat just yet. “Are you done with that?” Trevor asked, pointing at Tristan’s plate.

“Yeah, Dad. But I’ve got it. I want to help,” said Tristan.

“Nah. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” Trevor reached over and grabbed Tristan’s plate, sliding the utensils off of it and onto his own before stacking it underneath. He then got up and reached across Tristan to get at Marcus’ plate.

Tristan would have insisted on doing more, but his whole body locked up when he realized just how close Trevor’s bulge had gotten to the side of his face. He couldn’t help but look.

From this close, the tightness of those shorts was made readily apparent. The sizable lump of Trevor’s half-hard cock wasn’t just vaguely outlined, the fabric hugged every contour, exposing just about every detail.

From his vantage point, Tristan could just about make out the ridge of Trevor’s glans and the faint hint of the piss slit att he tip. He didn’t know what came over him, but the urge to lean forward and rub his face in Trevor’s crotch was almost overpowering.

It wasn’t going to take a lot of movement to bridge the gap between his cheek and Trevor’s cock. There was barely an inch of space to cross. He could practically feel the heat radiating from Trevor’s dick and it made his almost as hard as it had ever been.

The exertion was so intense, the drain on his willpower so rapid, that Tristan very nearly breathed a sigh of relief once Trevor finally pulled back. He barely heard the clatter of plates being stacked—of utensils being dropped on the plate that was on top—over the thundering of his own heartbeat in his ear.

Tristan stared at the wall, trying to get his emotions—the lust, guilt, and confusion rampaging inside him—under control. In the meantime, Trevor took the plates and utensils to the sink.

The linoleum floor wasn’t in the best condition, though. There was an exposed seam that they’d all learned to step over at this point, but Trevor must have been distracted or not paying attention. His foot caught on the seam, ripping it wider.

At the sound of ripping linoleum, Tristan’s head snapped toward his dad. He got to watch as Trevor stumbled forward only to catch himself. Trevor managed to save the plates, but the utensils were another story, clattering to the ground.

“You okay, Dad?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” said Trevor. He placed the plates on the counter and went about picking up the forks and knives that had fallen on the floor.

“Do you need any help?”

“I’m good, son,” said Trevor with a chuckle. “This stuff happens.”

Tristan wasn’t sure about that. His dad was a seasoned vigilante and a master martial artist; he couldn’t remember the last time that Trevor made such a clumsy mistake.

Something wasn’t quite right with this picture but before he could interrogate that notion, the sight of Trevor’s ample ass short-circuited Tristan’s brain. His gaze fixated on that round, muscular rump and how the shorts seemed like they were suctioned onto those toned, sculpted cheeks.

The shorts were short enough that they rode up while Trevor was bent over, his ass cheeks practically falling out of them. They were tight enough that the straps weren’t just visible past the bottom hem of the shorts, the outline of the straps were pressing up against the fabric.

The implications took a moment to register, but when they did, Tristan’s cock strained at the realization. The only thing between him and his dad’s ass was a single layer of fabric—a single layer that was stretched taut over those thick ass cheeks and so thin that it was practically translucent. A single layer with a seam down the middle that rode right up into Trevor’s crack.

The worst part was that the seam wasn’t flush all the way along the cleft of Trevor’s ass. There was a bump in the middle, right where Trevor’s hole should have been. There, instead of showing an imprint of his father’s pucker, was the circular flared base of a toy Tristan had only ever seen in porn.

---

Tristan was dangerously close to blowing his load, but he couldn’t stop touching himself. He knew the risks of doing this at the precinct—how easily he could be exposed as a pervert—but he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to stop despite the risk.

A knock on the doorframe made the possibility of discovery very real, though, and it saved Tristan from his own weakness. Although he was so close, instinct jolted him upright in his chair. He snatched his hand away from his dick so fast that he nearly pulled a muscle.

One of the officers was at the door. To Tristan’s dismay, it was Rudy. He fought the urge to sigh. While his relationship with most of the cops at the precinct could, at best, be characterized as mutual tolerance, Rudy was one of the ones he really couldn’t stand.

“Hey!” Rudy said, snapping his fingers as if he were talking to a dog, “Earth to Tiffany Ching! Didn’t I tell you when you came in this morning to get the Ndoye file to Andrews?”

The fact that Rudy refused to call Tristan the right name and seemed to think it was the funniest joke in the world was one of the many reasons that Tristan didn’t like the guy. “Why are you bothering me? Isn’t that your case?” he said.

“That case is a bunch of nothing. A waste of resources, if you ask me. Parents being overprotective of an adult kid who can do whatever the fuck he wants,” Rudy griped.

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” he said. “You can just hand over your copy of the file. It’s literally less than a minute walk over to Daniel’s desk.”

Rudy scoffed. “Fuck no. I’m not giving that geezer my notes. He wants to go over me to the chief about this case? He wants to bleat how this is supposed to be part of some larger pattern? He can take his own fucking notes.”

There was a certain contempt in Rudy’s voice that he didn’t even bother to mask as he continued his rant. “Just a bunch of kids learning about party drugs for the first time. Happens every year. The stupid parents freak out. Andrews is a fucking idiot for making it out to be anything more than that. So he can do the interviews all over again, if he wants to take over this case.”

Once he’d finished sounding off on Daniel, Rudy turned his ire on Tristan. “And you better watch it, too. I don’t know where you’re getting the balls to talk back to me, but you’re paid to be useful here. No one’s paying you to jerk off, so better get those documents over if you want to keep your job. Because the Chief’s getting on my ass about it and if this bites me, I’m taking you down.”

Before Tristan could even respond, Rudy stormed off. It was never a pleasant experience dealing with Rudy. But there was one benefit in this one narrow case: Rudy’s ugly mug completely took the wind out of his sails, so to speak. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever felt less aroused.

Grumbling to himself, Tristan turned to his computer. He found the digitized copy of the case file in question and printed it out.

The only reason he and his family kept a police scanner was because it was a good way to learn about crimes in progress. For anything other than that, the police in this precinct were pretty fucking useless.

Tristan found it quite rich that Rudy was acting like Tristan was the one that didn’t want to do his job. Rudy was one of the dozens of cops working at the precinct who would do just about anything to get out of work.

If it were up to him, Tristan would be working elsewhere, but the precinct itself was good for at least one thing: turning up leads. People called in with their concerns all the time and while in most cases, it was all bunk, a good lead came through once in a while.

The cops rarely ever did anything, no matter how good a lead was, but every last one of those leads came through Tristan’s office since he was in charge of managing records. He noted the interesting ones and he and his family would figure out which ones were worth following up on.

Andrews—Daniel, as Tristan knew him—was one of the few cops that Tristan admired in the department. If this case of Rudy’s had piqued his interest, then maybe it was worth looking at.

Once the documents had been printed out, Tristan collected them into a folder and left the records room. Maybe Daniel would have some more insights about the case that weren’t apparent from the file. The guy had a hawk-like instinct for crime, after all.

---

Tristan knocked on the office door. Daniel was a seasoned officer and a senior detective. It seemed only right that he had his own space. Well, it wasn’t entirely his own. He shared it with his partner, Ravi, who was a bit more green.

Ravi wasn’t new to being on the force, but he was new to being a detective. He used to work for a different precinct and, by all accounts, had a pretty good record. He had all the qualifications and certificates he needed, but just lacked the opportunity to advance where he used to be since the detectives there weren’t looking to retire anytime soon.

This was the only precinct in a relatively affordable part of town that had an opening, so Ravi applied for the job and got it. He liked to joke that it was a blessing in disguise. This part of town was rougher, so there was more work and the rent was cheaper than where he used to live, so it was a win-win.

Tristan doubted that the experience had been all that positive, but he wasn’t about to question it. He got along decently well with both men. Daniel, in particular, was a bit of a mentor figure. In fact, it was Daniel that had connected him with the dojo in the first place.

In a way, Tristan owed his life to Daniel. Gods knew where he would have ended up if not for Trevor.

“Come in, it’s open,” Daniel called out from inside. He looked up and smiled at Tristan when he came in. “That for me?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’d ask how you knew, but I don’t want to get you started,” Tristan teased.

“Hey, T,” said Ravi.

“Hey, Ravi. How’s it going?”

Ravi kicked his feet up. “Boring. Tell me you got us something good.”

Daniel pulled out his reading glasses and put them on as he took the folder from Tristan. He flicked through it and seemed more or less satisfied with what was inside. “I’m just curious why you were the one that brought this here,” he said.

Ravi chimed in, “Yeah, isn’t that Jimenez’ case? What, was he too much of a pussy to see me face to face?”

Tristan’s relationship with Rudy was standoffish. Ravi’s was downright hostile at times. As much as Ravi denied it, Tristan was pretty sure the reason Ravi refused to call Rudy by the same name that everyone else did was because Rudy refused to use Tristan’s real name.

Daniel clicked his tongue. “You don’t have to like the people we work with, but you should at least try to not antagonize them,” he said. “Getting on their bad side is just going to make things difficult for you.”

That was another thing that Tristan liked about Daniel. The guy was about as straight a shooter as a cop could be. Most of the ones in the precinct were dirty and at least half were outright in the pocket of local criminal syndicates—at the very least, he was pretty sure they were. It was why so many disliked Daniel, but Daniel was on good terms with the Chief so the others couldn’t do shit.

Granted, the Chief wasn’t the best person, either. One look at the state of the precinct was enough to know that. The Chief preferred to turn a blind eye to what the dirty cops were doing as long as they weren’t making too much of a fuss.

As far as Tristan understood it from Daniel, the Chief didn’t mind that some of the cops were gangsters too. Apparently, that was supposed to be a good thing. The Chief thought that those guys would keep things sane and reasonable.

Rumor had it that the Chief came from old money. That the only reason he was even at this backwater precinct was that it was easier to fly under the radar. Tristan had heard that the guy had his fingers in a lot of pies and many connections that a small precinct Chief shouldn’t have had.

There was one thing Tristan knew for sure, though: the Chief was shady. Still, he had to admit—the man was surprisingly effective. As much as he disagreed with the methods, things were kept relatively quiet in their part of the city.

Tristan supposed the Chief had a vested interest in keeping things quiet. There would be too many noses sniffing around for the truth in the rumors if things got too out of hand.

Not even the gangster cops wanted to get on the Chief’s bad side. Threats, blackmail, and the prospect of being blacklisted from every precinct in the Refuge Point Police Department (RPPD) kept them in line.

Daniel set the file down and grabbed a push pin. Behind his desk was an evidence board. On it was a map of their side of Refuge Point, along with a dozen or so other pins already in place.

Tristan took a closer look. Daniel didn’t mind. They had an open policy for information sharing. Daniel let him know if there were any good leads and he let Daniel know if his informants told him anything relevant. This time, though, it seemed that he’d caught Daniel in the early stages of an investigation. “What’s all this? Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Daniel shrugged as he placed the pin near the local college—the one that Tristan used to go to and the one that Leo was currently attending. “I’ve only got a hunch. Not enough to go off of. Don’t even know if it’ll pay off.”

“But you’ve been around long enough not to ignore gut feelings,” said Tristan.

Daniel nodded. “That’s right.”

“I admit, man. I got a lot to learn still. Bit more than a dozen cases we’re looking at. I didn’t think there was anything special about them all, but the old man immediately spotted a pattern,” said Ravi as he sat up.

Daniel chuckled and cast a glance over his shoulder at his partner. “It’s a lesson you’ll learn soon enough,” he said. “It’s easy to accept police reports at face value, but that’s a good way to miss critical information. That’s why you gotta be civil with the others. Get to know their tendencies. Learn who’s likely to mark a case resolved just to get it out of the way, and who’s happy to take the time to look into things.”

In a quieter voice, Daniel added, “And get to know who makes shit up and how they’re likely to lie on a report.”

“Tell me about it,” Tristan laughed. “You’d think I lived in a barn, the amount of bullshit that crosses my desk on a day-to-day basis. Anyway, what’s got you concerned?”

Daniel looked at his map. “I think there’s a new drug hitting the streets. Impossible to say much more than that since it’s early days, but I think it’ll surge soon.”

Ravi came around to stand by Daniel’s desk. He flipped through the file as he said, “Most of the reports were from concerned third parties, so they’re neither coherent nor useful. But there’s one thing in common: altered mental states.”

Tristan quirked an eyebrow. “Alright, just like a hundred other drugs,” he said.

“That’s what I said!” said Ravi. “I don’t know why the old man thinks it’s a new drug.”

Daniel turned around and fished out a couple of files from his desk. “All the suspected users have clean records. The reporters are adamant there’s never been drug-use before. I think that means this is something that’s not recognized as a drug.”

He set the files down on the table. “If the reports are true and my hunch is right, the drug’s getting people involved who wouldn’t normally use drugs. That’s a dangerous combination, no matter how you look at it.”

Tristan frowned. Daniel’s description struck him as familiar. “I think my brother was keeping an eye on something that sounds similar… Let me get in touch with my contacts. I’ll see if I can find anything out,” he said.

“That’d be great,” said Daniel. “I tried to tap my usual sources, but they haven’t been much help. There’s a picture here, but it’s vague.”

“It doesn’t help that all of this is secondhand,” said Ravi. “We’re not getting any first-hand tips pretty much at all.”

Tristan got a reply back almost as soon as he sent his message. “It’s called VNM. A new vape, apparently. Some people are getting high from it, but most don’t think it’s anything that serious. They treat it like weed. Recreational, at worst.”

Ravi’s shoulders slumped. “Well, that’s a bit of a bummer,” he said. “Turns out there’s no case after all.”

Daniel pursed his lips. “Hm. I don’t know about that. I think it might be worth looking into this a bit deeper,” he said. “People might not think it’s anything bad, but if it’s brand new, we can’t say that until we’ve seen long-term effects.”

Tristan looked at Daniel. If there was one thing he’d learned during his time here at the precinct, it was that Daniel’s instinct for crime was near perfect. He had his reservations, much like Ravi, but he knew to trust Daniel’s gut at times like these. “I’ll see if I can find anything else out,” he said.

Daniel put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder and squeezed. “Fantastic,” he said. “That would be great.”