A noise downstairs wakes him.
It isn't a particularly eventful noise. Just the sound of the front door, casual footsteps thudding along as someone wanders. Picking up a job from the board, poking around the kitchen, nothing of any concern. Still, it's enough to cause a territorial pang in him, protective and laced with wariness, setting him on edge and right out of sleep. In that one strange moment between sleep and sense, he can't quite figure out why. It's not a common reaction for him; he hasn't had a reason for years.
Ah-- and then he remembers. It's because of what he's holding.
A comfortable weight in his arms, smelling soft like sleep and stress-- Robin is still here.
Tek opens his eyes anyway, as if he really needs to see to make sure. His face is too close to make out real detail (it must be night now, with how dark the room is) but there is at least the curve of a closed eye and the too-white of the other man's skin. He's still sleeping--deeply, by the sound of it--crumpled up against him where one of them had pulled the other close sometime during the night.
He has time to think about it, now. In the absence of sound, in the presence of darkness, where he lies as thoroughly motionless as a crocodile at the bottom of a pool, he lurks with his thoughts. Without the need for more, reptilian breath is slowed to nearly nothing, heartbeat only lazing along. Robin, by contrast, seems bright and breathy even in sleep, almost disturbingly mammalian. It's enough of a contrast to make him think about why again. How did this creature really end up here, tangled so willingly in him-- partially lured and partially insisting. Was it a good idea? Was it even his idea?
Mm, but then the footsteps come closer, near the bottom of the stairs, and Tek's eyes immediately slide to the door... and that reaction in itself is telling. It hardly matters why, because he already covets him. He finds himself wondering who that is, snooping around down there. Another 'associate' of Robin's? Would they come creeping, looking for him? What would they think if they found him here, wrapped in the arms of a jealous-eyed stranger? He lets himself dwell on the thought a little, basking in the fact that whoever that is down there, Robin isn't with them right now. He's here--the silly broken thing--this is where he decided to retreat. His ego rolls around in the thought.
Around the other man, his arms stretch. Sleepy shoulders move until they have feeling again, ribs spread as he pulls in a full-lung breath. And, like sand, Robin immediately settles into all the spaces when he moves. He's somehow even closer now.
Whoever it is downstairs, they eventually move on their way, and Tek observes his own reaction to it from a distance. The intruder leaves and he settles down again in response, that predatory-watchful instinct slowly lowering its hackles. His own animal behavior confirms what he's been wondering... it seems that, somehow, Tek has already found himself two mates in this little world. And that is something that isn't worth bothering to think about or fight. It simply is.
What really strikes him is how easy it was, in Robin's case. The female makes sense--it's natural, uncomplicated, very little game. This, however... surely Robin doesn't actually trust him. Whatever he is, he seems to be a clever creature... he has to know. And yet, here he is, attached to Tek as if trying to melt into him. Craving the attention makes sense, but could he really be so desperate for comfort? It might help explain what he was doing with that ridiculous mortal. Still... he can sense the layers to it. It all goes deep, it can't possibly make much real sense, and will almost definitely make an excellent game. He has a feeling that there is enough there to play with and explore for a very long time.
The fact that it's all so meaningless and messy brings him comfort. His eyelids are heavy again, and he yawns against Robin's neck. The situation is strange, and delightful, he ultimately decides. It is, at the very least, something he can use as a distraction from the fact that he is caged and amputated from everything he knows.
So, he'll just enjoy himself for now. He sighs and settles, breathing in the contagious air of lethargy around his newest mate, his mind put at ease again. It will eventually all fall apart in an impressively violent way, of course, but... thinking that far ahead gives the whole thing more weight than it's worth. Too much significance is the quickest way to ruin a good thing, after all.