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Room and Board	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 25355 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the game this story is based on (Jak & Daxter) nor do I make any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Ch. 1
- 2-Ch. 2
- 3-Ch. 3
- 4-Ch. 4
- 5-Ch. 5
- 6-Ch. 6
- 7-Ch. 7
- 8-Ch. 8
- 9-Ch. 9
- 10-Ch. 10
- 11-Ch. 11
- 12-Ch. 12
- 13-Ch. 13
- 14-Ch. 14
- 15-Ch. 15
- 16-Ch. 16
- 17-Ch. 17
- 18-Ch. 18
- 19-Ch. 19
- 20-Ch. 20
- 21-Ch. 21
- 22-Ch. 22
- 23-Ch. 23
- 24-Ch. 24
- 25-Ch. 25
- 26-Ch. 26
- 27-Ch. 27
- 28-Ch. 28
- 29-Ch. 29
- 30-Ch. 30
- 31-Ch. 31
- 32-Ch. 32
- 33-Ch. 33
- 34-Ch. 34
- 35-Ch. 35
- 36-ch. 36
- 37-ch. 37
- 22
- 23
- 24
- - - - -
Grimreaperchibi: Thank you, as always, for your kind words and unwavering support. I would never have gotten this far without you at my back, and that’s no exaggeration.
Donalgraeme: Sorry about the outtakes, man. I had the wind taken out of my sails for those. They may make a reappearance next chapter, possibly. In the meantime, I hope the end of this chapter is fun enough to make up for lack of outtakes.
Kuromei: Nice to see you back again! It’s always nice to have a few chapters built up to devour all in one sitting. Glad you liked them!
- - - - -
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
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The first week of Christmas vacation whistled by like winter wind. Daxter found himself adapting to life in the country with alarming speed.
Before his first full day on the farm was through, Jak and Keira had introduced the redhead to all their close neighbors, plus their neighbors’ livestock. He had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Perch, the eccentric widow who owned Flut-Flut the ostrich, along with a menagerie of other fowl, both domestic and exotic. He also met Farmer Zeb, an elderly cattle farmer who always looked on the verge of falling asleep. Zeb’s cattle, a specialized hybrid stock of Texas longhorn and Tibetan yak, were a sight to behold. According to Jak no fence could hold the yak-cows when they were feeling contrary, and he had spent many afternoons corralling them for a modest fee.
Daxter met Keira’s father Samos, a short, grumpy naturalist with a fashion sense erring closely on the side of “tree hugger.” He had a greenhouse on the back of his property that rivaled the size of the house he and Keira lived in, filled with exotic breeds of orchid and herb, a world’s worth of seedlings brought back from the far reaches of the globe by Uncle’s travels. To Keira’s mortification, within minutes of shaking hands he had made a scathing comment about Daxter’s front teeth. Daxter delightedly fired back with a shot at the old man’s wooden shoes. It promised to be a glorious enemy-ship.
And then there was Jak’s uncle himself.
Sir Frederick Humbert Mallory-Talbot IV had returned from the airport the same day Damas had arrived, as predicted. And, as Damas had also predicted, before the evening was done the entire group had been corralled into the den like farmer Zeb’s yak-cows for a PowerPoint presentation of photos and random informational factoids about Belize. It had been compiled on his return flight and was accompanied by an oral lecture from the old adventurer himself.
That had gone as well as could be expected for the first hour, before the wall-sized projector screen suddenly filled with the forty-seventh slide; a close up of a truly massive tarantula. Jak had overturned the coffee table during his exit from the room. Daxter and Keira had laughed until they cried. Uncle Freddie had not been pleased.
(“Daxter, dear boy, as a friend of Jak’s, you are welcome here—but I must insist you never refer to me as ‘Uncle Freddie’ ever, ever again.”)
Days passed. Then a week. There were snowball wars that Damas always seemed to win even when the three coeds teamed up against him. There were long excursions far afield on Keira’s snowmobiles, the redhead clinging tight to Jak’s waist. There were trips to town to shop for Christmas presents and food to keep the suddenly full house up and running.
Then, all at once, it was Christmas Eve.
The dinner that Jak had promised and Daxter had half dreaded went without a hitch. It came as a very pleasant surprise to the redhead how much he actually enjoyed it. There was no awkward dressing up, though Uncle did insist they use the fancy china and silverware that was actually silver. There was no thinly veiled scrutiny from extended family members he had never met before and would never see again. No nearly accusing remarks of how he must be so thankful to have somewhere nice to spend the holidays.
Instead there was only a constant flow of happy conversation interspersed with occasional sass from Samos or an inappropriate comment about the turducken that Jak had made it a personal mission to get a hold of once the idea had taken hold.
“Look at Killer and Croc!” Keira laughed when nearly everything on the table had been eaten. “They’re so full they can’t even pester each other anymore.”
Dog and ferret lay nose to nose on the hearth rug, so stuffed with bird that an apparent truce had been called until digestion was done.
“I think I know how they feel,” Damas grumbled. “I’m not going to be able to fit back into my uniform pants next week.”
“Shall we have a little wine with dessert?” Uncle asked. The question was redundant; he was already rummaging in the liquor cabinet that took up half the back wall of the formal dining room. “Let’s see, something to compliment your lovely cake…”
Damas eyed the two-tiered monstrosity that had taken the turducken’s place of honor in the middle of the table. Coated with chocolate fudge frosting, marshmallows, and cordial cherries, the cake boasted a tuft of holly and a liberal stabbing of candy canes. “That actually doesn’t look too terrible. You did alright, for three kids who have no idea how to bake.”
“Hey, we can read directions just as well as anybody else!” Daxter protested. He was curtailed by a wine glass descending with great finality next to his dessert plate.
“I’m never going to get the flour out of my tablet,” Keira muttered. “Next time I’m printing off the directions first.”
Jak hid his grin behind his hand. It totally hadn’t been his fault that they’d dropped the tablet in the mixing bowl. Not at all.
As Uncle was still busy corking the wine he had selected and no one else seemed inclined, Daxter reached for the cake slicer. As full as he was sure he had been five minutes ago, he was willing to accept the challenge of dessert. “Man, I can’t wait ta sink my teeth into this!”
“Speaking of teeth,” Samos began blithely, “you know they have decently high success rates with adult braces nowadays.”
“Daddy!” Keira hissed, elbowing the old man sharply at table level.
“What?! I’m just saying!”
Uncle nodded obliviously, leaning over the table to pour Damas’s wine. “Quite right, old lad. That little issue could be corrected in a jiffy.”
Jak pointedly cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at his uncle, but the old man seemed to miss the entire exchange.
“Yeah, well, thanks fer that. I’ll log that away.” Daxter laid his ears back sourly as he transferred his slice of cake from platter to plate. While Samos was blunt as a spoon and unashamed about it, Uncle really didn’t seem to have a clue when he was being insulting. Part and parcel of being an aristocratic snob, he supposed; well-intentioned but old-moneyed. “Besides the sheer amount’a money those things cost, I already been there, done that, an’ it didn’t exactly work out. No way I’m goin’ through that again.”
Uncle raised a bushy brow. “Not that I doubt your truthfulness, you understand—not very much, at any rate—but really, how could you possibly have…?”
“You really expect us to believe you’ve had braces before with an overbite like that?” Samos finished skeptically.
Jak’s mouth fell open. “Guys, seriously, drop it!”
“I was twelve,” the redhead said loudly, cutting off anything else his friend might have been about to say. If the old guys wanted the story, he was willing to fess up. “I landed in this foster place with a pretty fancy couple. They were nice enough, I guess. So they decided that I was gonna get braces. At first I didn’t really care one way or the other—lot’a kids get braces in middle school, y’know?” A piece of candy cane popped as he crunched down on it. “I had ‘em on about a week before I heard the lady tellin’ one’a her friends that I might actually have a prayer of lookin’ halfway normal if they fixed my godawful teeth.”
Jak looked personally offended.
“Wow, rude,” Keira huffe.
Daxter sucked the icing off the side of his fork. “Yeah, rude. So that night I smuggled some needle-nose pliers out’a the garage an’ pulled the braces off.” He snickered evilly. The sweetness of victory hadn’t faded with time. “That was another trip ta the orthodontist, a round of antibiotics, an’ the last I saw of that foster home!”
The rest of the table went absolutely silent.
He was still laughing when he noticed the varying degrees of shock on the faces of his fellow dinner guests. His shoulders hunched defensively. “What?”
“Did you really?” Jak asked, expression unreadable.
The redhead shrugged uncomfortably. “Well… yeah. I mean, sure it was a spiteful, rotten thing ta do, but even a kid knows when they’re bein’ insulted, y’know?”
Damas slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “That,” he said frankly, “is hardcore. And impressive, I must admit.”
Daxter chuckled nervously. Hearing that he had impressed a man like Damas was almost as nerve-wracking as earning his disapproval. “I think the exact words said ta the social worker were ‘ungrateful little brat.’ Not so much impressive.”
“Seems pretty damn impressive to me,” Jak said. He looked somehow proud.
Keira grinned. “Me, too.” She raised her wine glass. “Okay. A toast, to doing exactly the opposite of what society says you should do. Like being a female mechanic!”
Daxter enthusiastically complied. “And tearin’ off braces!”
“And being a socially awkward football player,” Jak agreed, rolling his eyes in amusement.
“What a bunch of free-thinking little anarchists,” Damas mused as their glasses clinked over the remnants of the cake. “Makes me think there might be hope for the future of humanity after all.”
- // - // - // - // -
Much to Jak’s relief, things quieted down considerably after dinner. Uncle, Samos, and Damas sat talking at the table, freshly cleared, while the younger generation beat a retreat to the den with a bottle of bourbon eggnog. There they stayed until almost midnight, watching reruns of all the best classic holiday movies TV could offer.
Finally, though, Keira and Samos took their leave.
Then Uncle bid the boys goodnight and went to bed yawning, his Indiana Jones bathrobe pulled tight around himself to ward off the chill.
Damas wandered in soon after. “Shouldn’t you two be getting to sleep?” he asked. “The sooner you sleep, the sooner you get presents.”
“Maybe we’re waiting for you to sleep so we can shake boxes,” Jak countered evenly.
“Don’t you dare, you little punk. They’re fragile. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter,” he said firmly, obviously noting Daxter’s immediate surge of interest at the hint. “Goodnight, you little terrors. Sleep well.” He started from the room, then shot a look back over his shoulder. “Not a ribbon out of place before morning, I mean it!”
“We’re not five, Dad,” Jak groaned as Daxter sniggered. “Go to bed!”
With a small smile that seemed to mean he was satisfied, Damas went.
The dying fire popped in the grate, glowing coals and small flames brightening the dim room. Jak flipped off the TV with a sigh. “You know, sometimes I get the feeling Dad wishes I was still a kid so he could sneak out here in the middle of the night and leave presents.” He cast a sidelong glance at the redhead lounging by his side. “Okay, so… now that we’re alone, can I just take this opportunity to apologize for the people in my life and how they have acted tonight?”
Daxter looked up from the carved wooden puzzle sphere he had been worrying and blinked. “Whadda ya mean?”
Jak lifted a shoulder awkwardly. “Uncle and Samos, mostly. I’m sorry about earlier. They should have dropped it. Or never brought it up, really. They don’t mean any harm, I guess, but you know how stubborn old guys can get when they have opinions—”
“Don’t worry about it, Jakkie-boy. Seriously. Ain’t like I’ve never heard it before.”
“You shouldn’t have to hear it at all.” The quarterback frowned. “I don’t get what everybody’s deal is. Your teeth are fine. They make you look like… you. I like them.”
Daxter’s hands stilled, though his eyes stayed locked on the puzzle. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked grin that he seemed intent on not letting show. In the dying firelight Jak was sure he could detect a rising flush of red on freckled cheeks. “… ya do, huh?”
Jak smiled softly, dropping an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I do.”
Daxter leaned into the contact, still looking inordinately pleased. After a moment of contemplation he let the puzzle drop to the coffee table and turned to look up at the green-blonde. “So, Jak. About presents.”
Now how had he known that topic was going to come up? Jak chuckled. “I don’t know what he got us, I swear.”
“Nah, that ain’t it. I was just thinkin’. You gave me a really great present an’ I didn’t get you very much—”
“You know what I got you?” Jak asked suspiciously. That was supposed to have been a surprise.
Daxter blinked at him. “Yeah, duh. You gave it to me already.”
“Oh.” Jak almost pointed out that his second-hand athletics jacket was definitely not Daxter’s real gift, then thought better of it. Now the next morning would definitely be a surprise. “Right, yeah. What about it?”
The redhead’s ears fell cutely. “Well, like I said, you gave me this really nice thing an’ I couldn’t really return the favor, so…”
Suddenly there was a hand on Jak’s thigh. Warmth bled through the denim of his jeans almost instantly.
“How ‘bout a present you can open tonight?” Daxter breathed, equally hot breath caressing the inner shell of a long ear.
They hadn’t been more-than-platonic-best-friends physical in almost two weeks. Taking that into consideration, Jak’s answer required zero thought. “Oh, hell yeah.” He turned to reach for his friend—who quickly pulled back.
“I mean, like, not right here, obviously,” Daxter stammered, his suave seduction attempt evaporating as he glanced nervously at the shadowed entryway of the den. “But up in yer room, y’know. With the door locked. If we’re really, really quiet. But then we got plenty’a practice bein’ quiet, right, after messin’ around in the dorm an’ all—”
Fluidly Jak stood up, halting the stream of nervy babble. “Okay, sure. No problem. Let me get the lights.”
It took only seconds to turn off the table lamps, surrendering the room to the glow of the final embers in the grate. There was just enough light for Jak to get a hand on the small of Daxter’s back and carefully steer him out of the room. The whole house lay in shadow, but Jak knew his way by feel.
Daxter paused at the foot of the stairs. His ears drifted upward, one of them brushing Jak’s cheek. Testing the waters to make sure Damas was really in the guest room and not loitering somewhere in the dark, Jak was certain. He pressed gently on the back his hand still rested on.
“Dad’s probably not asleep yet,” he murmured into that curious ear. “But he won’t hear us from down here.” Then he smirked. “Not unless I make you scream.”
A bony elbow jabbed into his side a split second later, but not before the green-blonde caught the sound of a shocked gasp. It was probably a bad sign that he enjoyed teasing Daxter so much.
“Smart ass,” the redhead hissed, then huffed up the stairs. Quietly.
Jak followed with a chuckle.
At the top of the stairs, Uncle’s snoring could clearly be heard from the room at the opposite end of the hall. For the umpteenth time in his life Jak was grateful that the old man could sleep through a volcanic eruption. They wouldn’t have to worry about him overhearing, either.
“Okay, now I can totally see why you an’ Keira never got busted,” Daxter said as Jak shut the door to his room behind them.
The quarterback laughed quietly as he locked the door. “What can I say? I lead a charmed life.”
Then they were kissing, Daxter’s arms going around his waist like that was where they belonged, and something deep inside Jak purred in approval. He’d pretty well resigned himself to the fact that there would be no sex until they got back to Haven U and, as such, had done his best to put the idea from his mind. But now, with Daxter not only amenable to some fooling around, but taking the initiative and offering it, Jak could admit that he had missed this aspect of their relationship. A lot.
“Keira can’t like, see in here through the window, can she?” the redhead whispered against his lips as they momentarily broke apart.
“Not unless she climbed the tree,” Jak assured. “Not likely at one in the morning when it’s snowing.”
“Okay. Cool.” Apparently satisfied, Daxter disengaged from the embrace. Casting an assessing look at Jak, he pulled off his shirt.
Jak’s ears went up in silent inquiry.
Dax flushed, shirt clutched loosely in his hands as he squirmed. “I just thought y’might like it if yer present was actually unwrapped fer a change. I mean, if yer cool with it.”
“I am very cool with that,” Jak vowed. “I’m so cool with it that all ten similes and metaphors you could probably come up with without even thinking about it wouldn’t encompass the cool that I am right now.”
“Smooth talkin’, fake jock. Smooooth.”
Jak’s own shirt hit the floor in record time, followed shortly by the rest of his clothes and Daxter’s pants. Then a strategic retreat to the bed was in order. Jak managed to fumble a bottle of lube out of the nightstand as Daxter slipped beneath the blankets in his boxers, sniggering quietly at the quarterback’s ineptitude. Then the light was out and Jak was sliding into bed beside his friend, heartbeat already speeding in anticipation.
Daxter curled against him immediately, palms cool against a muscled chest.
“Cold?”
“Not fer too long, I’m thinkin’,” came the cheekily whispered reply.
Jak grinned, pulling his smaller bedmate closer and relishing the feel of unobstructed skin against skin. “Twerp. How long have you been planning this?”
“The sex? About three days. The getting naked? About fifteen minutes.”
“Kind of spur of the moment. Not that I’m complaining.” Jak appreciatively ran his hand down the expanse of a narrow back.
Daxter’s full-body shudder was not necessarily a bad thing. “I figured we’ve been doin’ this long enough I ought’a get with the program. Not like yer gonna kick me out’a bed ‘cause I don’t look perfect.”
The green-blonde chuckled quietly. “Now you’re learning.” He ran his fingertips experimentally under the band of Daxter’s boxers, enjoying the sharp little intake of breath that resulted.
Daxter shifted eagerly against Jak’s thigh, his forming erection a pressing, welcome warmth through thin fabric.
The bed creaked loudly.
Both boys froze. The quiet suddenly seemed inordinately loud around them; the silent house waiting for their next move.
“This bed’s creaked every time one of us rolled over for a week,” Jak reassured, breath tickling a nervously twitching ear. “No big deal.” He braced himself on one elbow, raising his upper body for a better angle to trail his mouth down the side of a pale neck—to an even louder creak from the bed frame.
Jak cursed under his breath.
“Shiiiit,” Daxter whined quietly, obviously expending great effort on not grinding. “What the hell are we gonna do if we can’t even move?!”
For a few seconds, Jak’s brain stalled. Alternate locations—the couch (too risky); the hayloft (much too cold); the cellar (too dirty)—chased each other in quick succession. And then, suddenly, the obvious answer presented itself.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I guess we just won’t move.”
Daxter pushed himself up on his arms. Another creak. “Say what, now?” he hissed in disbelief. “Dude, if you think I’m gonna be able ta sleep with the epic boner I’ve got goin’ on here, you’ve been hit with one too many cranial footballs.”
Jak fought down a laugh. “No sleeping, I swear. Not yet. Just trust me, alright? I want to try something.” Gently he pushed the redhead back down in bed, rolling him onto his back. “If we have to we can take the blankets and move to the floor. But first let’s try this, okay?”
Though he looked doubtful, Daxter allowed himself to be positioned to the quarterback’s liking. “Okay, I guess. This better be good.”
Being no stranger to challenges on and off the field, Jak knew when one was being issued, even when the issuer didn’t. He grinned as he shimmied closer, molding himself against Daxter’s side. “It will be. Promise.”
Under the covers, Jak’s hand landed on a smooth chest. Dax shifted, then seemed to relax under the touch. He sighed contentedly as the hand petted lower, avoiding the sensitive peaks of his nipples—for the moment. Fingers danced down a trim stomach, following a wispy trail of ginger fuzz until long legs parted eagerly to accommodate them.
“Okay?” Jak asked. Even with the welcoming body language, he still liked to hear permission first.
Daxter all but purred, arms limp and pliant at his sides. “Mmm-hmm.”
Permission granted, Jak’s hand slipped down to cup the redhead’s arousal through his boxers. He turned his head as he did so, lips finding Daxter’s neck in the darkness and kissing gently just below the ear.
There was a muffled snicker. Daxter tipped his head, pulling his ear out of reach as his pelvis canted up into the heat of Jak’s palm. The bed squeaked softly.
“Remember, no moving,” Jak whispered, making sure his breath stirred the hair at his friend’s temple. “Just stay still. So… very… still.”
“Okay, okay, I’m still!” Daxter hissed quietly, twitching with barely contained impatience under Jak’s hand and mouth. “C’mon, you gotta give me more than that!”
The green-blonde hummed in assent. More he could do. While his fingers leisurely wandered the head of his friend’s cock through thin boxers, he moved his lips down that flushed neck and sucked, hard.
Daxter gasped sharply, hands digging into the blankets. “Holy shit, yer gonna give me a hickey,” he whimpered, obviously desperate to keep his voice to a bare whisper. “Seriously, I am not gonna wear a scarf inside all Christmas day if you mark up my neck, you freakin’ vampire!”
“I’ve got a red one you can borrow,” Jak murmured, trailing his tongue soothingly over the area he had hitherto been abusing. “It’d look good on you.” As would hickeys left by the quarterback, in his humble opinion, but Dax probably had a point if they didn’t want the family raising eyebrows. No marks it was.
No marks anyone else could see, anyway.
He moved lower, from rapidly beating pulse point across winged collarbone, down the center of an unsteadily rising and falling chest. A peaked nipple caught his attention and he detoured to it, licking a broad swathe across the whole area.
The redhead made a sound like a kicked dog, quickly bitten back, and every muscle in his long, wiry body seemed to seize. His arousal, now unquestionably hard and heavy, jerked in Jak’s grip.
Jak smirked delightedly. He was still a little amazed that a guy could be that sensitive, but damned if he wasn’t going to exploit it. He should have thought of using his mouth on Daxter’s chest weeks ago. Naturally, he did it again. And again.
Daxter threw his head back with a muffled moan, sunset hair fanning in chaotic disarray across the pillow. The muscles of his stomach jumped continuously, testament to how hard he was working to keep himself in check.
Licking soon became all out sucking, Jak alternating between straight pressure and rolling the rock hard nubs with his tongue. With each hard suck or firm stroke, the cock in his hand twitched; a fascinating sensation when the erection wasn’t his own. He stilled his hand, simply holding Daxter through his boxers, feeling the flex of the redhead’s thighs and the minute movements of the hot skin-under-fabric under his hand.
“Yer evil,” Daxter gasped breathlessly, fisting a hand in Jak’s hair. “Tell me not’a m-move an’ then fuckin’ stop movin’ too—fuckin’ shit, who even does that?!”
The quarterback chuckled, mouth too occupied to answer until he pulled back the slightest bit. “But you like me.” At his friend’s grumbled reply, he grinned and breathed hotly across the thoroughly overworked flesh. “Have you ever considered getting these pierced?” Then he closed his mouth back over it and bit delicately.
The hand still loosely twined in green-gold hair spasmed. Daxter’s free hand flew to his own mouth to clamp down on the sudden wail that struggled to get free. His cock gave a hard twitch and a rush of hot precome soaked through his boxers to dampen Jak’s palm.
Jak tugged gently at the elastic. “Ready to take these off?” he lifted his head to ask, a little breathless himself by this point. His own erection pressed insistently against his friend’s hip, none too pleased at being left out.
Daxter nodded frantically in answer, hips jerking upward in his rush to push the encumbering fabric down. Jak leant a helping hand, holding up the blankets as Daxter squirmed, cursing the errant bed squeaks under his breath. In a moment the boxers were flung over the edge of the bed into the darkness.
“C’mon, big guy, please, please,” he whispered pleadingly, latching onto Jak’s arm.
Jak already had the lube in his hand.
The next few minutes passed in silence.
Daxter bit his lip and simply breathed, head pillowed on Jak’s upper arm, fingers digging uselessly into the sheets. The closer he came to his peak, the deeper the shuddering breaths he drew.
Jak murmured wordlessly, lips to his friend’s temple, free hand curling up as best it could to gently stroke the redhead’s ear. His opposite hand moved determinedly beneath the blankets on a similar, but much more pressing, mission. It pumped, quick and steady, grip firm and even, until Daxter finally reached his breaking point.
There was an arch of a limber spine, a choked hitch of breath, and heat flooded Jak’s palm. He mouthed the ear his lips were closest to in silent praise, hand still milking the last of his friend’s release. Seconds stretched, then stilled.
Post-orgasmic haze lingered for long moments. Jak enjoyed the jumble of pliant roommate at his side, trailing his fingers along flushed skin after surreptitiously wiping his hand on the sheets. All that exposed flesh was too rare to waste an opportunity to touch.
All too soon, Daxter stirred. “S’ hot,” he grumbled faintly, and pushed the blankets off.
The green-blonde smirked, eyes wandering pale skin in the dim glow of the light strands on the far wall. “Yeah, it is.”
The comment seemed to sail right over Daxter’s head. He lay with his arm flung across his eyes, then swallowed hard. “Man, I need a drink. M’thirsty.”
“I believe it. You were gasping like you were dying.”
“Hey, it was breathe hard or pass out!” he whined indignantly. “While I was tryin’ not ta make noise like a bad porno, might I add. Why’s it so damn hard fer me ta be quiet when I’m with you?” He pouted up at the quarterback. “I’m serious. I could rub me off the exact same way you just did an’ not make a peep. What’s up with that?”
Jak laughed. “Because you can’t bite your own nipples?”
“Two words, pal. Fuck, you.”
As if to accentuate Daxter’s one fingered salute, Jak’s phone beeped on the nightstand.
With a hard stretch, the green-blonde was able to grab it. “How much do you want to bet that’s Keira?”
Daxter eyed the window uneasily. “You’re sure she can’t see in here, right?”
Jak rolled his eyes and glanced at the text. “Positive. Her text says ‘did Santa come yet? lol.’ It’s a Christmas Eve tradition.” He smiled as he began to type a reply. “Ten years ago she would have asked me that over walkie-talkies.”
“Aww, how cute.” Dax grinned hugely. “You should send her a dick pic.”
“If you want her to know exactly what we just did, then sure.” The quarterback’s neglected arousal was still more than up for the occasion. After a moment’s thought, he added to his text.
//No santa yet. But I did get to open a present early. That means exactly what you think it means fyi//
Daxter rolled closer with a soft creak and laid his head on Jak’s shoulder, ears flicking idly. “Y’know, not that I’m complainin’ about comin’ my brains out, but you were the one whose present that was supposed ta be. And yet, yer the one still hard up. Somethin’ else you wanna do?”
“Making you squirm like a ferret with fleas is a gift unto itself,” Jak chuckled.
“Hey!”
“But, if you’re up for it, I’d kind of like to toss you on the floor and frot for an hour or so. How’s that sound?”
There was a shocked pause. The redhead’s eyes widened even further in the darkened room. He cleared his dry throat. “Uh, s-sure. Sounds like a plan.”
Jak couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again. “Make a blanket fort. I’ll go grab us a drink.”
“Ah, yes, your compulsion ta keep me properly hydrated strikes again.” Daxter fell back against the pillows with a grin. “Y’know, fer a quarterback you spend an awful lot’a time bein’ my personal water boy.”
Digging through the shadows for hastily abandoned underwear, Jak glanced back at the bed, a reply of ‘don’t get used to it’ on the tip of his tongue. But seeing his friend stretched out there without a care in the world, looking truly comfortable without his clothes on for the first time since the quarterback had known him, it was a little alarming how much he did want Daxter to get used to it.
Jak shot him a small smile. “Best buddy’s privilege. Now, less dozing and more fort building.”
“Alriiiight. Sheesh, from personal water boy ta personal P.E. teacher barkin’ orders in ten seconds flat! What’s the world coming to?”
“Says the guy who already came once.”
Daxter waved him out with a non-repentant air.
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Jak slipped into the darkened hallway.
On the table, his phone beeped impatiently, insistent demands falling on distracted ears.
//OMG!! Youre serious arent you//
//You giant pervs! Couldnt even wait til your dad leaves again//
//How are u guys even being quiet enough i mean daxter just seems like hed be a screamr//
//Hellooooo ignoring your bfff is hella rude jakjak//
//Omg your doing it again arent u. I swear you better be wearing a santa hat jak. That is literally the only way i will let this slide//
//A santa hat for you an daxter can be your lil elf. Or maybe rendeer. Ride teh reindeer jak! Hi ho silver!//
//Ok thats it screw the icicles and wind chill im climbing the tree. If i slip and fall and die spying on you and your bf you can have all my stuff//
//Yeah ok nvrmnd its really cold out there//
//Goodnight you guys. See you tomorrow. Merry Christmas <3//
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To be continued.
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