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Bad Romance	By : grimreaperchibi Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 2597 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Jak & Daxter, nor the places, people, or objects within. I make no money writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Bad Romance
- 1
A/N: I make no excuses for this. Only two people will ever know where this came from, and they will be shot on sight if they ever tell (and don't you dare give me sad corgi eyes, it won't save you). Because despite everything, I'm still damned embarassed about this fic. I typically hate the mpreg genre, but I can't find a clean way to cut it out, so hopefully that won't turn too many of you readers off. But it's finished, and in the wake of feeling semi-sort of accomplished because I finally finished something, I post. Hopefully, it is enjoyed.
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With a sigh, Daxter admitted defeat. It was late, he was tired, and rereading the same paragraph at least four times had done nothing to clear up its meaning. Why was he doing this again? Oh, yeah, because he was still a sucker for a great pair of tits and Tess knew how to use it against him. A little eyelash flutter, the proper arch of the back as she leaned over the bartop in that low-cut shirt she only wore when she wanted to beg for favors… He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to banish the image. He loved the busty barmaid, he really did, but she really needed to either learn how to balance her own books, or break down and hire someone else to do it. Because nice twins or not, he was done with the Naughty Ottsel after this.
He sat back in his chair and idly looked around the closet he’d chosen to be the back office. Cramped, uncomfortable, stifling hot in the summer…and he was going to miss it. Miss the late nights that turned into early mornings. Miss the simply joy that came from doing something that wasn’t do or die. Miss having a place he could call his own that he’d created with his own hands. The Naughty Ottsel was everything he’d been told he could never have—a place he belonged to, a way to support himself, a life all his own. It proved that he, Daxter, had done the impossible not once, but twice, because he’d not only done it, but done it when the whole world only saw a two-foot fuzzy rat. Tess had been invaluable to that end, and he would love her forever for it.
He had another blond he needed to think about now, however.
Speaking of… “Jak?” Daxter frowned when his friend quietly pushed open the door and slipped in. “You okay?”
The three time world hero looked so young and uncertain, standing on the edge of the lamp light. Not that Daxter could really blame him; the whole damn thing scared the hell out of him. “It’s hot,” Jak mumbled absently, shifting awkwardly and obviously only about half awake.
There was a warning bell attached to that word, though for the life of him, the worn-out redhead could not remember why fore. His knee-jerk response of sarcasm wanted to point out Jak was always hot. His hair was starting to grow out again, just barely long enough to be pulled back and sleep-tossed. The goatee was back, too, though that was mostly because being clean shaven made him look too young when everyone was grouped together. His skin was that richly tanned earned from long days of desert patrol wrapped smoothly over a body and build that was quite possibly a textbook image of male virility in its prime, currently dressed in a set of loose sleep pants and nothing else. Add to that a pair of sleepy, dark blue eyes that still managed moments of honest innocence and it was a small wonder he wasn’t beating back admirers with a gunstaff. Then again, most people weren’t willing to look past the fuck-off glares, the renegade grins, and the snarling instances of Dark Eco. Even the people who did never really saw Jak, and they certainly as hell weren’t preview to these kinds of times.
The sarcasm was swallowed, though, which left him with the awkward, “Hot?” It was most definitely a tad too warm in the office, but Jak had been asleep upstairs, where the windows and fan made for a nice artificial breeze. Daxter extricated himself from his chair and the desk, worried when all the blond did was nod.
The moment they touched, the warning bell turned into a screaming klaxon and the worry became a full-on panic moment. His eyes jerked first to the clock, then the calendar as he swore as vividly as his tired mind could, all the while pulling Jak to him. Right time of night, wrong day, wrong week, wrong fucking month. He counted again in his head just to make sure, swearing once more when the number didn’t change.
That’s right, Jak never “felt” hot, or cold for that matter. He broke every rule there was about how a body was supposed to react to extremes in weather. Hike all day through the Wasteland with eighty pounds of equipment strapped to his back and hauling another twenty of Precursor tech because their ride broke down? He’d sweat like a roasted hiphog and reek worse than damp yakow wool forgotten in a closet, but he never felt the same nagging exhaustion or disorientation of heat stroke anyone else did. The only time he was “hot” was when he went into rut…for lack of a better term. One of the many wonderful things eco exposure had done to the both of them.
Being an ottsel and locked in a haze of sexual need had had little lasting effect on the world. Curl into a hole for a week, blister his palms for most of that, sleep off the rest, and then ready to go it again. Jak, however, had gone through it every seven weeks, alternating between intense bouts of violence and a crippling need to be touched that lasted for a very long four days. The introduction of Light Eco had pushed the instinct back to three times a year for around eight days at a time and helped him find other ways of coping without resorting to agression, but Daxter went out of his way to make sure they were alone and very far away from other people when it hit. Jak had more than earned that little bit of privacy. It was barely mid-spring, though. There should have been another two months at least before the next round of ritual sex.
The tingle of eco was there, however, transmitting the want and desire from one body to the other better than all their unspoken words. As soon as their bodies came flush against each other, Jak’s arms locked around his waist and a rather insistent tongue began molesting his neck. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t rut—there wasn’t a lot of foreplay involved in their first set of couplings. Jak usually just knocked him on his ass and started taking what his body needed, keeping Daxter compliant and willing via a full scale assault on his ears. This was the behavior of a few more days down the road, when exhaustion began winning out against lust.
Daxter really didn’t have a lot of brainpower to continue thinking about it. His neck was his second biggest weakness (he blamed the many years of being picked up by the scruff as an ottsel for the reaction) and the waves of need washing over him from their eco connection was making it hard to stand, let alone consider something other than the nearest flat surface he could get Jak on to. The floor was always an option, and always a last resort. The desk was convenient, big enough to support that kind of weight and would even give his long legs an advantage. But it was awkwardly placed in the room and covered with all the paperwork he’d spent the majority of his day trying to untangle. Why bother when they could back pedal a little bit, hit the stairs, and fall into a proper bed? Now he just had to convince Jak that was a worthwhile endeavor…
He tilted his head up when that roving mouth moved in for the kill, making full use of the extra two inches he had in height. A hand curled into blond hair kept teeth from clamping down on his throat. “Not here,” he said firmly, meeting the unhappy glare of his partner. “Back in bed.”
“No,” Jak snarled, teeth bared. Daxter tightened his hand and pulled back hard on the hair in his grasp. The short, sharp jolt seemed to momentarily rewire the hero’s brain. Jak blinked in surprise, the earlier aggression lost behind frustration, desire, and a certain amount of self-conscious uncertainty. It always left Daxter feeling like a heel for being so rough, even if the situation called for it.
“Bed,” he said again, fingers stroking the abused bit of scalp, pressing a kiss to Jak’s forehead. “Whatever you want, but in the bed.”
“Dax…” It was the closest Jak ever got to whining. His eyes were already starting to glaze over again, that tenuous connection to sanity slipping away. He buried his face in his friend’s neck, grip tightening. “Promise?”
“Ya seriously gotta ask?” The question was striving for teasing. It fell a little short of sarcastic instead, floundering in the shallow end of awkward. “Yes. Promise.”
The sound byte sentences seemed to penetrate the hormonal fog and register in the blond’s brain. With a nip that made Daxter yelp, Jak pulled away. They both had to take a few deep breaths against the sudden loss of contact…and then the connection between them broke. The abrupt reordering of the world was harder on the hero than the redhead, but they both wobbled a bit. The self-conscious look was back as Jak mumbled, “Sorry,” under his breath and all but fled the room.
For a few long minutes, Daxter focused on breathing. Inhale, slow and steady until his lungs couldn’t expand any further. Hold for a heartbeat and then release, exhaling until there was nothing left. Repeat until his knees didn’t feel like over-extended rubber bands anymore. Until his mind and body were his again.
In a lot of cases, the eco bond they shared as two channelers was nice. They had always had good communication, even when Jak regularly spoke without using a single word. Ten years and a fractured future later, glances and body language still made up the majority of their conversations. There were just some things that couldn’t convey. Some things needed to be experienced firsthand. At a touch, or even if in close enough proximity, they could connect through the eco their bodies held, a strange phenomenon they had discovered shortly after breaking out of the Baron’s prison. Jak knew how terrifying it was to be at the complete mercy of someone twice his height and Daxter had lived through two years of madness. It brought them closer, being able to share all those little things that could otherwise rot a soul.
But during those days of desperate, aching need? It was simply maddening. Not only did he have to deal with his own arousal, there was also the insane amount of lust rolling of his partner to contend with. It was easy to lose track of who was supposed to be doing what and even easier to forget that the partner not being whipped on by strange urges needed to control their pace and timing. Otherwise, they’d do something stupid and forget necessities, like lube before penetration. Blood and spit were not adequate substitutes in any situation, no matter how hard-up someone was.
Daxter was also ninety percent sure it was the reason they had never looked for another partner in bed. Helping each other through rut had been a practicality when this all started. He’d been considered a pest problem and Jak had been a wanted man. Even if their then-girlfriends had been willing, it would have been awkward and unduly dangerous for everyone involved. That meant just the two of them holed up in Haven Forest, away from prying eyes and potential massacres. Having someone who already understood that relentless drive made all the difference in the world. Being able to keep up with it because those feelings were constantly reflected and refracted back was almost a must. Sharing in the experience regardless of which side you were on was nigh-on mind blowing. And the longer it went on, the more it felt like no one else could understand. So they kept it between themselves and moved forward like they always had. Sometimes, though, he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to go their separate ways on this matter once the war ended.
Figuring he’d spent enough time contemplating situations he couldn’t change, the redhead switched off the desk light and began making his way to the bedroom. He made a couple detours to check the locks (not because he was stalling), then ascended the back stair, undressing as he went. There was no real way to tell how out of it Jak would be when he got there and he rather liked these clothes. He didn’t want them ripped just in case the blond decided he wasn’t moving fast enough.
There was little to worry about, apparently. He wasn’t rushed when the door opened, pushed and pulled down under a torrent of hormones. Jak actually sat rather benignly, all things considered, on the edge of the bed, naked as the day he’d been born and waiting patiently. Wholly bizarre, given the amount of raw sexual heat rolling off him right then. This time, Daxter was ready for the flash of arousal that came as the eco in one body sought out the eco in the other, taking an almost involuntary step forward. He dropped his clothes and promptly forgot about them. With measured steps, he closed the distance between them, skin prickling against the contrast of cool room and heady anticipation. Jak just watched, eyes bright in the ambient darkness, until they were within touching distance. There, the world paused for a moment.
The moment passed. Daxter reached out, brushing some hair from his friend’s face. Jak sighed and leaned into the touch even as he pulled the unresisting redhead closer. A warm face nuzzled into his stomach as Daxter let his hands knead across tense, broad shoulders. The part of his mind that was still functioning independently recognized the command his body was already responding to—Touch. A single word that at one time had been hissed through sharpened teeth as a white shadow practically curled in on itself trying to accommodate that need for physical contact. It was the only word Dark Jak had ever said aloud since he’d been more than willing to let the rest of the world assume what it would about how functional he was when channeling (the rabid crocadog impression everyone seemed to harbor was amusing and more than slightly terrifying in its naiveté).
There wasn’t much a two-foot-something ottsel could do to really satisfy what was being asked for, but Daxter had tried his best. He’d splayed himself out over his friend’s chest and stomach, clinging like a sea star stretched between two rocks after the tide went out. He’d press his nose to the hollow of Jak’s throat and stretch his tail until it curled securely against an inner thigh, close yet still out of the way of the hand taking care of the real problem. By the time he’d managed to shed his fur for keeps, Jak had been balanced out for five years, so as a human, Daxter had never really dealt with Dark’s request—which was what this was. A warm body pressed against him throat, chest, and hip while he brought himself to completion was what the blond wanted most right now. The only problem was that Daxter was far too big to pull it off anymore. At least, not without forcing his partner into a submissive position, and there was no way the Dark Eco would let Jak be anything close to submissive. There might be another way to wrap himself around the hero, though…
The muscles he’d been absently massaging had loosened up nicely, making it completely natural to continue down an equally knotted back. Doing so while standing in front of someone was difficult, however, so Daxter gently inched his way around on to the bed, never stopping the movements of his hands. Soon enough, he was behind Jak, working methodically across scarred skin, habituating it to contact as he lured the other further up the mattress. By the time Daxter’s own back hit the headboard, Jak was relaxed and ready for something a little more. It took a concerted effort, however, to get the blond to ease back, a slight confusion as to what was happening mixing with an instinctive need to remain in control. Fingers still kneaded away little spots of tension while lips brushed over a sensitive neckline. A steady conversion of one image in their combined mind to another eventually got his partner settled between his legs and leaning back into the redhead’s embrace. From there, it was relatively easy to give what was wanted.
His arms wrapped around a well-muscled torso, one hand petting across the stomach while the other caressed Jak’s chest. The hero let out a small gasp, arching into the touch, finally pulling out of his strange calm and into more familiar territory. He shifted, pressing back into the body behind him all the more firmly, his head falling against a bony shoulder. Daxter took the opportunity to start kissing and nibbling the tender skin behind one flushed ear, earning a deep groan of satisfaction. One of Jak’s big hands started kneading the redhead’s thigh while the other ghosted over the hands touching him on its way south.
With a lazy eye, Daxter watched his friend take himself in hand. The careful way calloused fingers wrapped around a thick, dark shaft, sliding until the heavy erection rested in his palm. The squeeze that came next brought out another soft sound of pleasure. Jak’s hips jerked involuntarily when he finally stopped holding and started actually stroking. The movement was precise and practiced. Down from the base, slow and steady with only the tight pressure of his forefinger and thumb encircling while the rest of his fingers trailed behind. Another squeeze at the tip that made a shiver run up his spine, a slight twist of the wrist, then the equally timed pull back, ending the movement just as it had begun. A shuddering draw of breath and then another sure stroke. Another soft moan and a wash of pleasure that both calmed and enflamed.
The phantom touch combined with the very real feel of Jak rubbing against him had the redhead panting in time. He switched from Jak’s neck to his ear, using his tongue to trace the finer folds of cartilage. Teeth caught the lower curve, tugging gently, but to great effect. A louder moan ripped free from his friend’s throat, hand constricting almost immediately to three fingers and moving just that much faster. He hooked his feet around the inside of Jak’s, pressing his knees under the hero’s to leverage his legs wider. Throughout it all, Daxter never stopped touching. His fingers traced out each well-defined muscle. Sometimes pressing down hard, sometimes barely brushing the skin, always moving from hip to collarbone. He toyed with hardened nipples, drew random patterns around the navel, releasing the ear he’d been abusing so that he could focus on the strong column of a neck again, nipping lightly until he could find that perfect spot that made Jak freeze for a moment, then turn into quivering jelly. His teeth clamped down and he was rewarded with a high-pitched whine.
Finally getting the sense that the end was near, Daxter stopped teasing everything and went directly to the places that seemed to need touch the most. One hand came to rest at the base of Jak’s throat, absently tracing the hollow that had been a safe place for an ottsel nose. The other hand slipped down further than it had gone before, past the belly button and through the thin trail of dark green hair to that oh-so-soft spot between the blond’s hips. Jak gave a wordless cry, arching as he came.
The jolt of pleasure brought on by orgasm was like being hit with a large dose of blue eco right after a long night’s sleep: raw, dizzying, and electric. Even though he wasn’t the one who had come, Daxter still felt the aftershocks and ease of tension. He trembeled as he held onto Jak, breathing hard with his face buried in his friend’s shoulder, trying to keep some sense of self in the face of such overwhelming feelings. The hand that had probably bruised his thigh came up to tangle in red hair while the other hesitantly rest over the one pressed against the slight swell of the lower abdomen. There was a slight groan before Dark’s healthy purr began rumbling out of Jak’s chest. Daxter couldn’t help but smile ruefully to himself—the Dark Warrior would be one most eager for that little pulse under their hands.
“I’m pregnant.”
Jak had said it so simply, like he was making a comment on the weather (which in Spargus was always hot and dry). Daxter had just stared, waiting for the punch-line that would never come. There was no “just kidding,” no click of a camera to capture what had to have been a completely stupefied look, not even the drama of a pot boiling over, something starting to burn, or someone walking in on them. The whole thing had been quite the opposite of the cheesy, overused plot device Havenite women seemed to love in their romance novels.
He’d been sitting at their dining table (which they never used for the purposes of eating, but felt their home required) fussing over nothing of true importance when Jak walked in and made his announcement. They had then stared at each other for a while, waiting to see if the world was going to end. When the imminent collapse of time and space failed to happen, Daxter had asked the appropriately stupid question, “Are you sure?” Jak didn’t give him one of his usual condescending looks whenever something mildly irritating slipped out of his mouth. Rather, he took the redhead’s hand and placed it on his lower stomach. Sure enough, there was a slight static-like shock as the eco made a new connection. He’d blinked, looked up at his friend, looked back at his hand, and embraced reality.
Jak was pregnant.
It was rather pointless to ask the melodramatic questions that usually accompanied such a statement. A case of immaculate conception notwithstanding, Daxter was the only guy Jak slept with; if the blond bore a child, said child would belong to him. Similarly, they had both come out of a particularly intense round of rut a few weeks earlier, so when wasn’t really that much a mystery either. The only question that bore any real merit was how. Because of his thin stature, Daxter’s gender had been called into question a couple of times. No one would ever confuse Jak for a chick, yet he was the one filling in the mother roll now. Ironic, but irrelevant. They were both male, with all the glories and pitfalls the masculine gender entailed. It should have been impossible due to base physiology alone.
This late in the game, however, it was a moot point. Between the Dark Eco treatments he’d endured during his stay with Baron Praxis and the hastily applied Light Eco powers granted to save the world from space invaders, Jak was so screwed up not even the Precursors, with all their knowledge and power over eco, could figure out why he still functioned as well as he did. Daxter himself had spent nearly ten years as an ottsel due to the effects of being thrown head first into a vat of the malignant black stuff. Not to mention all the crap he’d been exposed to while riding on Jak’s shoulder, or the few times he’d been experimented upon himself, or the questionable methods that had finally left him human again. Their bodies were messed up, their heads were messed up, their lives were messed up. After all was said and done, one of them suddenly being able to bear children wasn’t really that far outside the realm of possibility.
It was just a damn scary possibility. One made slightly scarier every day they noticed another change. At first, it had been little things. Shortened temper. Sleepless nights. Anxiety that only seemed to go away when Jak was in motion. Things they’d lived with for so long now, they hardly took notice of them. The power shift between Light and Dark was a constant thing, so a slight swing to the more irritable side was not unheard of. It had just kept going, however, and extending to weird lengths.
Their first clue that it was becoming a problem was when he snarled at Keira. Granted, the relationship between hero and mechanic was one that needed someone with nothing better to do to keep a score card. They seemed to break up and get back together according to the phases of the moon and which direction the wind was blowing. Daxter had learned not to care after the first ten times Keira had stormed away and Jak went to find something non-valuable to break. If the blond wanted to torture himself with a bad relationship that was never going to move beyond the bedroom, that was his prerogative; Daxter just didn’t want to hear the grousing after the fact. The argument that spawned the violent response wasn’t anything new and their relationship had once again swung back into the breakdown stage anyway. She wanted him to come back to Haven, he loved Spargus. She needed something more, he wanted something less. Blah, blah, blah. Three rounds of insultes and the reimagining of every past transgression later, Keira threw out her parting shot, “You love a rat more than me!”
Jak lost it. The air shook from the force of the growl that never seemed to stop, the one Dark used to challenge Metalheads and usually scattered even the most hardened of warriors. Horns, fangs, and claws came out. The only things that probably saved Keira’s life was Daxter grabbing her wrist and the close proximity to the door. He threw her out without a word, slamming the door shut as much to keep her out as Jak in. As soon as she was gone, the blond calmed right back down, irritated but no longer violent and refusing to discuss why it had gotten that far. This particular scenario had played out so many times now, however, it was hard to feel anything besides slightly confused by the harsh response. As unprecedented as it was, they both brushed it off as a bad night and that was that.
And then Jak snarled at Sig, whose only crime was saying he needed them on opposite swing shifts for patrol. Same violent reaction, this time to a person who’d been nothing but supportive of them since the day they’d met. This time, he’d been forced to grab Jak and shuddered through the protective screams of not just Dark, but Light as well. It almost took a dark ottsel monster for them to shut up, but he finally got Jak out so he could make hastily apologies to the Wasteland Leader. Sig, like the good man that he was, was concerned about the outburst. He forgave easily when Daxter vaguely mentioned stress as the likely culprit for the bad mood. The hero had been running full throttle for nearly three months at this point in time. He obviously needed a vacation, which Sig was more than happy to give them.
They’d packed that night and left Spargus before dawn broke.
Haven probably wasn’t the smartest choice of immediate destinations, but they needed more than weapons and the clothes on their backs before making themselves scarce. The appropriate excuses had been made to the appropriate people for the sudden disappearing act and they were set to leave first thing in the morning. They still had no idea where they were going other than the general northern direction. The only two criteria Daxter had was “safe” and “away.” It was up to Jak after that.
Sharp teeth scraping over the tender skin of his throat brought the redhead back to the present moment. He lifted his chin, baring his neck in an act of submission. Jak twisted against him, pulling free from the loose embrace but not away. With a care and tenderness many would find hard to believe an eco saturate could possess, Jak bit down on the exposed length of throat just hard enough to make sure the sharpened points of his teeth could be felt. Daxter closed his eyes and relaxed, firmly ignoring the flutter in his stomach and the ache of arousal further down. Though he never fully transformed during sex, both of Jak’s alternate forms showed through from time to time and both were extremely possessive. Daxter would deny it to his dying breath, but that feeling of belonging, that display of claim and ownership was enough to keep him near Jak always, just like when they’d been kids.
There was always a moment of fear involved, when the rational part of his brain managed to surface just long enough to point out how easily he could lose his life. His skin was no deterrent to those fangs. Just a slight bit more pressure and it would be a surgical cut straight to the carotid. A good snap of those strong jaws would tear out his trachea like a hot knife through butter. It didn’t matter that he trusted the blond explicitly; it still brought a slight tremble.
The teeth retreated and one of those big, warm hands was drawing his head back down, pulling him into a kiss. Despite how careful they were, Daxter’s lips still split open when they were brushed by razor-like incisors, adding a heavy, metallic component to their lip lock. Jak licked at the shallow wounds, the barest touch if cool Light Eco healing a little bit at a time. Slowly, subtly pushing and pulling, Jak coaxed him onto his back, sprawled out properly on the bed. Hands fastened like vices around his upper arms, pinning the redhead down. His lips were swollen and sore by the time Jak pulled away, healed but fragile. Those sharp teeth once again rested against his throat as a reminder, then nipped sharply, nicking the skin.
Daxter jerked against the solid grip as the pain repeated across his collarbones and down his chest. It never seemed to matter how many time they did this ritual marking, it still hurt. A dozen or so wounds inflicted in what was only recently recognized as a purposeful pattern; though, only Jak knew what that purpose happened to be. It wasn’t so much the bite itself that stung, though there was a certain amount of discomfort as skin was easily split, but rather the barbed spike of Dark Eco that pierced through at the same time. Each nip brought more than blood to the surface, making him feel unduly hot and heavy. And just when he couldn’t handle the odd pressure caused by pain and pleasure, Jak reversed the pattern. Light Eco smoothed over the jagged nerves, a contrasting cool that was almost as painful to bear as the initial bites. It seemed counter-intuitive, that Dark was the one with the body temperature of a blast furnace while Light usually felt like a glacier-fed lake. Jak might never feel the difference, but Daxter could, and both forms used that sensitivity against him until he was dizzy and breathless.
Then the assault on his ears began. Jak stretched out against him, warm and hard in body but cold and soft in the mouth. Daxter bit his lip to stifle a cry, breaking the thin scabs there, using the small throb of pain as an anchor for his increasingly overwhelmed thoughts. He was too hot, he was freezing, so sensitive that the body pressing against him was a screaming agony, but he never want that mouth sucking at the tip of his ear to ever stop. And oh, long dead gods of the Precursors, how he ached with want, harder and more aroused than he had been a while.
He was both grateful and disappointed when Jak pulled away, too out of sorts to do anything except lay there quivering. It wasn’t far enough for their connection to break, nor long enough for him to catch his breath. His mouth was captured in another searing kiss, then Jak focused in on his other ear, panting hotly as a cool tongue trailed over flushed skin. This time, Daxter couldn’t quiet the desperate keen that worked free from his throat when the blond shifted again, pressing a heavy hand to his chest while the other, surprisingly slick, hand wrapped around his aching erection. His eyes flew open in shock, trying to rise despite the arm pinning him down. “Jak, wait—!!”
The hero never had any intention of waiting. He pumped the swollen cock in his hand a couple of times to smear on what Daxter hoped was lube before easing back, impaling himself. There was only a little bit of resistance as muscle stretched a bit further than it wanted to. A pause, another push, and then Jak was sliding down on him with a growling groan of relief, hot, tight, and very slick. Daxter hissed as his friend arranged himself in his lap, clawing at the bed sheets until his hands landed on muscled thighs. There was an infuriating little smirk on the blond’s face as he began rocking steadily against the length inside him.
This is what rut was like and why it really didn’t really count as “rut” at all anymore. It was the overbearing need to not just fuck, but to be fucked. To be taken hard, repeatedly, until the burning need to have something thrusting in over and over was either sated or their legs gave out. During onset, it was always the latter, which was often frustrating to the point of tears; a condition Jak had solved through violence during the ottsel years when someone screwing the other senseless was beyond impractical. It had been awkward the first couple of times even without the necessity of having to ask for it because the partner already knew. Still as sporadic as ever despite (or maybe made worse because of) regaining freckled skin and buck teeth, Daxter had gone through rut twice as a human before Jak had his turn. The whole experience ranked somewhere between getting dropped in Haven the first time and receiving blank stares from the three Precursor idiots when he asked to get changed back on the suck-o-meter.
Even now, years after the fact, he was a little in awe of how easily Jak took this all in stride. Sure, he could get pushy and forceful when he wasn’t getting what he wanted fast enough, and Light and Dark had this weird hurt/heal fetish he was probably better off not asking about, but the rest of it…it never seemed to bother him. Like there was nothing wrong with a savior and hero riding some other guy’s dick, or that dick belonging to his best friend, or that all of this started when they weren’t even close to each other on the same damn branch of the animal kingdom. So unlike Daxter, who tried to fight it every step of the way.
Jak was getting bolder, rising up on his knees as he rocked for a better thrusting motion. He was practically purring, the deep, almost contented sound made rough by the equally rhythmic heavy pants. In no time, Daxter found himself arching to meet him, pushing at his hips to go faster, press in deeper. Jak followed the unspoken demand without complaint. Rather, he seemed eager for the redhead to come, subtly pressing and coaxing through their connection, better than any sort of dirty talk that could be whispered. Between the shared experience and that gentle, but insistent murmur pushing all the right mental buttons, it didn’t take him long to lose it completely. A few more erratic thrusts and he came hard with a choked cry that counterpointed the whine Jak made.
For a few breathless moments, release clashed with increased desire, twisting into an uncomfortable knot of tension that got lodged at the base of Daxter’s spine. Then Jak was moving over him again and there was only want, the slow, deliriously intoxicating kind that wasn’t so much about trying to satisfy a need as it was about maintaining a connection for as long as possible. It seemed a little silly, all things considered, but it was undeniable as he began moving with Jak again. This was different than everything else they had done and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop or pull away. Of their own accord, his hands slid up, touching, petting as he had at the beginning, watching as the blond bounced in his lap. …He was gorgeous like this. The intense flush of arousal covered everything from the tips of his ears to his heaving chest. His stomach quivered and rippled as his thighs flexed easily, his cock once more rigid and leaking. Sweat was making his tan a shiny bronze and his hair stick to his neck and forehead, his ears tipped down in pleasure. And the sounds that came from that partly open mouth…
The rush of possessiveness was instant and consuming. Without warning, Daxter pushed with all the strength he had, rolling them over so that he was the one above Jak. The element of surprise was probably the only thing that had allowed the move to work. His hands had found their place behind the hero’s knees and had pushed them up before either of them realized what exactly was happening. Jak looked up in mixture of shock and raw desire, shifting slightly so that the positioning was more comfortable, but not attempting to regain control. Daxter blinked down at him, not sure of whom he should be asking permission from in order to continue. An awkward moment of stillness, a hard swallow, an unperceivable nod, and Daxter abruptly forgot why he had been fighting at all. So he stopped.
The wavering moan that came from the blond after the first thrust was more than enough to ensure more would follow. Not hard, not demanding, not just a means to an end, but a means of connection and so much more intense than anything they had shared before. It wasn’t a particularly fast pace that was picked up, but it was steady and complete, drawing out the pleasure between them while building it even higher. It wasn’t quite the desperation they were used to, but there was nothing in the world that could stop them now that it had started. Jak’s arms wound around Daxter’s neck, pulling him in for a desperate kiss which was returned with equal fervor. It left them panting into each other mouths, eyes making yet another connection as their combined orgasm gradually snuck up on them.
Jak broke first, crying out wordlessly as eco flashed through his system, a touch of Dark and Light before actually coming. As soon as his body tightened, Daxter swore and came as well, shuddering as the ripple of energy cascaded through him and back into Jak. There was a slightly lesser secondary echo of release, something more reminiscent of sharing in each other’s climax, that left them both moaning and riding against each other. It rolled back and forth between them a couple of times before finally settling.
They stayed entwined for a quite a while, long after they had caught their breath and their bodies had relaxed. Jak’s legs had been released and allowed to stretch out. Daxter had pulled back just enough make it comfortable, then laid with his head on his friend’s chest, absently stroking the skin in front of his nose while the hero’s arms had clasped around him. With few exceptions, they had never stayed like this for very long before. There was always something else that needed to be done or someplace else they needed to go. Now, there was just blessed stillness and silence, both outside as well as in. Neither remembered the last time this kind of peace was felt, save that it must have been sometime when Sandover had still been a sleepy little village. Even that usually depressing thought wasn’t enough to disturb the eddy of calm that had been created around them.
Finally, with great reluctance, they peeled themselves apart and stumbled into the bathroom. Unsteady hands got the shower running. It was a quick, cool wash down that still required both of them holding one another up to complete. After getting cleaned to a reasonable, livable level, they tumbled back into the bed. Still going with the feel of the night, Daxter pulled Jak to him as they settled down. The blond gave him a mildly curious look but didn’t really question, shifting easily enough so that they were once more entangled under the sheets. He was already mostly asleep by the time the redhead pressed another kiss to his forehead, happy at least one of them was going to get to sleep easily that night.
***
Daxter yawned so hugely, his jaw cracked and his eyes watered. He rotated his jaw to make sure it still worked, then shook his head in an effort to wake up. He needed more coffee, maybe some of that viscous black shit Sig had the nerve to call a drink that could put hair on a person’s chest and then singe it right back off. Seriously, whiskey had a kinder kick to it.
The streets of Haven were silent in the pre-dawn hour. The sky was just starting to lighten in the east and they’d already been up for an hour or so, trying to finish up their last minute list before making their silent exit from the limelight. Jak was currently outside getting all their gear situated into the small Hellcat the fine city was unknowingly donating to the cause while Daxter finished packing the food they were taking. It wasn’t a lot, but hopefully it would get them through until they found a new place to be. Tess had tried to convince them to take the whole refrigerator rather literally, nevermind that wasn’t really possible or practical.
Speaking of the buxom barmistress…he fingered the envelope he’d addressed to her as he glanced around, trying to figure out where to place it so that it was easily seen. She’d be disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to say good-bye and he’d hear about it forever afterward, but really, it was better this way. No interruptions. No distractions. No way to chicken out at the last minute. Still, she had been supportive from day one and deserved to know what had happened and why it had to be this way. It was a poor way to thank her for everything, but still better than nothing. Maybe she’d forgive them sooner than later. He finally decided the bartop was as good a place as any. After fussing for a moment, he left it leaning against a couple glasses, and then had a better thought. He snagged a couple flowers from the vase she always kept in the office and set them up with the letter. Now it didn’t matter how she came in, she’d see it almost immediately.
A gentle cough startled him out of his nonexistent thoughts. He turned to find the blond standing behind him with the last of their bags. “That yer subtle hint I need to get my ass in gear?” Daxter teased, reaching out to pick up his. “Checked up, checked down, double checked the bathroom. Us an’ that box over there are the end of it, unless you can think of somethin’ else we’re gonna forget.” Jak shook his head. “Well, then let’s get the fuck outta here before someone notices we’re gone.”
“Dax.” He halted mid-step with a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew that tone of voice, and Jak wasn’t looking at him, his gaze pinned to some point on the wall off to the far right. Most of the time, he would have tried to talk his friend out of whatever stupid thing he was thinking, but he really had no idea what this could be about. So he waited patiently for the other bomb to drop.
This was obviously not what Jak was expecting and it took him a minute to continue. “You… You don’t have to do this,” he finally said softly, eyes dropping to the floor. “You’ve already put up with so much of my bullshit, you shouldn’t have to…to leave everything behind again. I don’t have any right to ask that of you.”
The redhead waited until he was sure the other was finished before pointedly dropping his bag, stalking over, and forcing Jak’s face up so that their eyes met. He read everything there was in that gaze, the fear, the trepidation, the resigned and bitter feelings that came from having yet one more thing go wrong in their lives…and then kissed him soundly. Jak stiffened; they had never kissed outside of the desperation of rut before. But Daxter didn’t pull away, softening his hold so that he was actually cupping the blond’s face. Slowly, he relaxed, eventually even starting to tentatively kiss back. A thin arm wormed around to pull them closer together, pressing for a slightly deeper kiss before letting it end naturally. He smiled when those confused blue eyes questioned why.
A lot of time had been given to the thought of simply walking away. He cultivated thousands of arguments and hundreds of ways to broach the subject, everything from just disappearing one night himself to the long, drawn out process of making sure his friend was settled and then leaving. But in the end, he’d never made the attempt. Even with an ever encroaching deadline, it had never really came up before now. Last night, standing in front of Jak for that split second before caving to the eco, he’d finally figured out it why—he loved Jak too much to let him go it alone. It wasn’t like the love they’d grown up hearing about in stories, that heart-fluttering, breath-stealing kind Keira always swooned over. It was the love of a brother, the deep affection of a life-long friend, and the beginning of something that might be more if given enough time to grow properly.
He’d tried with Tess, and for a while, they did seem to achieve that storybook kind of romance. But facts were facts; he was an animal and she was a pretty young woman with a world of possibilities in front of her. She couldn’t live the ottsel life and he couldn’t leave Jak’s side. They loved each other undoubtedly. It was just a deep, mutual, platonic love that would never be anything more even after the fur was gone.
And maybe that wasn’t fair to Jak, or him for that matter, to offer something he really had no business giving. Then again, maybe that sugary sweet nonsense they’d been brought up on was as much a lie as everything else they’d thought of their world. With as screwy as they and their lives were, maybe that wasn’t the kind of love they needed. Maybe this fucked up, nonsensical symbiosis they shared was already exactly what they needed, all they needed. Maybe, they’d crossed that oh-so-thin line between close friends and more than friends long ago and never even realized it… In the end, it didn’t really matter much, did it? They were Jak and Daxter, the Demolition Duo, Savers of Worlds and Heroes of all Time. If they couldn’t do it, then it couldn’t be done, and that included falling in love.
The confusion and anxiety cleared up, leaving Jak’s eyes once more that wondrous shade of ocean blue you couldn’t find in the world today and only one question left; Are you sure? Daxter kissed him again. The simple, immediate answer was yes, but there were so many corollaries to take into account that the answer probably resided somewhere in the “no” category, effectively rendering the true answer as a definite maybe. That had never stopped them before, had it? Jak chuckled quietly, finally pulling away to finish gathering their things. There was one more cursory sweep and then they were lifting into the bright morning sky, not necessarily ready for it, but confident in their ability to handle this next adventure.
Even one out of a bad romance novel.
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A/N: The end. And I mean it. I wash my hands of the whole affair...probably.
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Bad Romance