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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
- - - - -
LittleDoll: I myself never had braces, but my best friend did. She was always griping about them and threatening to pull them off with pliers, which I always thought was funny and is what made me think of it. In video games, I guess anything is possible.
Kuromei: The guys are lucky Keira is a benevolent girl next door instead of an evil crazy genius mechanic. Well, she is a crazy genius mechanic, but she’s not evil. That we know of. You know what I mean.
Donalgraeme: The outtakes were erased because this story started out as a sort of parody of traditional yaoi. One of the things I always thought was ironic in a lot of yaoi is how often the consent issue is muddied, or outright ignored, so the outtakes parodied that a lot in the first chapters. I realized later that consent issues really aren’t meant to be humorous. I also realize that just because someone jokes about something doesn’t automatically make them a terrible person who would actually do something like ignore a partner’s consent, but some of the outtakes were pretty offensive from that standpoint. So I took them out. The outtakes are all gone now because the whole issue was really frustrating for me and left a bad taste in my mouth. I’m sorry that you miss them. I might start fresh and sprinkle a few in from now on.
MariMeeko: I’m glad someone caught the power cell reference! It was fun trying to add in all the tiny details. And I’m sure they’re looking forward to the time they get more vocal freedom in the sack as well…
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Better hurry up, Jak. Ball drops in three minutes.”
“Hurrying!” Jak yelled from deep in the confines of the pantry. He grabbed yet another jar of nacho cheese. “You know, Dad, if you super responsible adults had waited until midnight to break open the alcohol, I might not be stuck serving snacks to a bunch of drunk people.”
Damas chuckled as he walked by the pantry door, the bottle in each hand attesting to a successful trip to the cellar. “Now, now, son. Where’s the fun in that?”
Daxter snickered, none too sober himself. Red-cheeked, he stood at Jak’s side, arms laden with the chips and snack crackers the quarterback handed him from the shelves. “He’s got a point, y’know. So let’s go have some more! Champagne is awesome!”
A few rooms down, the den buzzed with activity. Uncle had invited not only Keira and Samos to his New Year’s Eve soiree, but all of the surrounding neighbors as well.
Mrs. Perch had arrived with her nephew, a sculpture major home from art school for the holidays, who carried a yellow tabby cat on his shoulder everywhere he went. (“I couldn’t leave poor Muse home alone! She’d be heartbroken!”) This was apparently encouraged by his professors.
Uncle himself, along with Samos and Ollie, an old fishing buddy of theirs who owned a nearby farm with an enormous pond, had already been sampling the beverages for several hours. Strains of “For he’s a jolly good fellow!” floated through the large house, enthusiasm making up for lack of talent.
Farmer Zeb had been asleep in an armchair since nine o’clock.
Jak grabbed the last bag of chips. “Come on, we better get back in there before Uncle starts trying to kiss Mrs. Perch when that ball drops.”
“Why’d he do that?” Daxter cocked an ear quizzically.
“You know, the whole kissing at midnight thing. It’s an old tradition.” Jak rolled his eyes. “He’s up on all the old traditions.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” The redhead nodded slowly as they left the pantry, kicking the door shut behind them.
No sooner had they begun to unload the snacks onto the trays in the kitchen, however, than the chanting of the countdown echoed from the den.
“Boys, get in here!” Damas bellowed with all the cheer of a slightly inebriated bison.
Dropping what was left of the snacks, they trotted back into the party at the thirty second mark. Jak paused in the doorway with an unobstructed view of the TV and the rest of the room.
“Ten… nine… eight…”
Riled up by the hubbub around him, Killer executed a brilliantly choreographed weasel war dance on the rug in front of the fire. The sculptor’s cat paid very close attention.
“Seven… six… five…”
Keira stood with an industrial-sized party popper in hand, a manic twinkle in her eye.
“Four… three… two… one—!”
There was no warning to preclude what came next. Before Jak could open his mouth to join the chorus of “Happy New Year!” he found his lips otherwise engaged. As noisemakers blew and Keira’s party popper swirled streamers and confetti around the room, Daxter anchored his hands in the collar of Jak’s shirt and kissed him soundly.
For a moment he forgot why kissing back was a bad idea. Dax tasted like pink champagne. Everything warm and happy, festive and welcoming, home.
Then he blinked and pulled away with a gasp, glancing frantically around the room.
Keira hugged a less-grumpy-than-usual Samos. Mrs. Perch hugged her nephew and his cat at the same time. Damas laughed between Uncle and Ollie, who had launched into a very loud rendition of Auld Lang Syne. Zeb snoozed on in his chair. No one seemed to have noticed anything untoward.
Jak heaved a sigh of relief as the urge to tackle his roommate behind the sofa subsided. “What the heck was that about?” he whispered sharply.
To his credit, Daxter didn’t look smug; just drunk and happy. “That was yer happy new year greeting. It’s a tradition.”
The green-blonde rolled his eyes heavenward. “Oh, I’ll make you think tradition. You’re going to pay for that when you sober up.”
Fortunately or unfortunately, sober didn’t seem to be on anyone’s agenda just yet. Everyone but Zeb gathered around the card table that had been set up for snacks and drinks. Flutes of champagne stood, already filled.
“Damas, why don’t you lead us in a toast?” Uncle proposed, flute in hand and champagne from his last glass lingering in his whiskers.
Damas raised his glass obligingly. “A toast, then: to family and friends, and especially to our kids, who have done so well their first semester of college. Here’s to another great year of new experiences, new adventures, and change for the better.”
Amid the chorus of cheers and clinking of glasses, Jak took a long drink.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” In the act of raising the glass to his mouth, Damas paused. “And a toast to my son, who’s finally decided to put himself out there. I was starting to think he’d never start dating.” He reached over and caught a very confused looking Daxter in a one-armed hug. “Nice choice of boyfriends, Jak. I like him.”
To the background noise of everyone else’s cheers and Keira’s delighted laughter, Jak experienced the unique joy of squirting champagne out his nose.
- - - - -
Several hours later, the house was dark and still. The champagne was drunk, the snacks all nibbled away. All but two of the guests had departed. In the aftermath of a successful party, Uncle and Samos snored from their armchairs, empty glasses and toppled party hats on the sideboard.
Jak dozed on the sofa, trying to summon the drive to get up and go to bed. It was a losing battle. With Keira asleep against his side and Daxter’s head in his lap there was no graceful way to make an exit. He had resigned himself to sleeping upright when the floorboards gave a soft creak.
“Stealth fail, Dad,” he grumbled, cracking one eye open.
Damas just chuckled and held up his phone. “Give me a smile, Jak. This is going to be my background picture.”
“Dad, no. Stop. Just stop.” Jak moaned quietly, head falling back against the sofa.
“Can’t stop, won’t stop, son. This is adorable.” Apparently satisfied with the shot, the older man tucked his phone away. “Do you think Daxter will ever take those shoes off?”
The sleeping redhead’s feet hung off the arm of the sofa, laced in the custom running shoes Jak had ordered for him online more than a month ago. Deep blue with orange and yellow lightning bolts down the sides, the back of each respective heel bore an embossment of the words “Orange Lightning.” He had worn them non-stop since Christmas morning.
Jak couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, eventually. I just hope he’ll wear them outside sooner or later. Running shoes aren’t much good if you only wear them in the house.”
His father stretched hard before sinking back into his own chair. “That just means he treasures them. You picked a good gift.”
The quarterback snorted quietly. “Not as good as yours. Way to be a showoff, Dad.”
Still soundly asleep, Daxter curled around the tablet he had barely let go of for the past week. The fact that Jak had also been gifted a tablet, identical but for their names laser-etched in the cases, hadn’t seemed to dampen his euphoria. They had also each been given a snap-attach keyboard and a printer to share for their dorm room.
“Hey, every college student needs a personal computer of some kind to type up assignments on. Crazy kids, doing everything off your phones. I can’t believe you two have been using the computer lab at your dorm for months instead of just asking for a laptop, at the very least.” Damas somehow managed to look innocent. “Besides, I like the kid.”
Jak’s ears flicked back. “We’re still not dating. He just gets—”
“—affectionate when he’s drunk, I heard you the first fifty times you said it. Doesn’t mean I can’t still like him. And it doesn’t mean you two don’t still look and act like you’ve been best friends your whole lives.”
Jak couldn’t refute that, so he didn’t try. “I guess that’s not a bad thing.”
Damas chuckled tiredly. “No. No, not at all.” Silence fell for a moment as he watched the sleeping redhead pillowed against his son’s leg. “… he’s not had it easy, has he?”
“No, he hasn’t.” Jak’s hand reflexively fell to Daxter’s shoulder.
Dax was one of the most awesome people Jak had ever met. He was sarcastic. He was hilarious. He was smart, creative, and enthusiastic, when he didn’t let the insecurities he had been conditioned into take over. The hand life had dealt him was far from fair. As it usually did when Jak thought too long about how unfair it really was, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect his smaller friend from everything—the whole world, if he had to. He wanted to put the little guy up on his shoulder like a sassy ferret and keep him safe forever.
But, since he couldn’t very well do that, letting his roommate use him as a bed seemed like a good enough option. There in the warm, quiet dark of home, sandwiched between his best friends, Jak felt like maybe everything was alright.
“I figured, and I’m sorry to have that confirmed. But for what it’s worth, from what I’ve seen the past couple weeks, your friendship is good for him. You’re a good kid, Jak. I’m proud of you.”
He spared his father an exasperated grin complete with eye rolling. “I’m your kid. You have to say that.”
Damas snorted. “Like hell I do. If you were a little punk ass you bet I’d be the first one to say so. And knock some respect into you, while I was at it.”
“Thanks, drill sergeant.” As gently as he could, Jak flexed the arm propped around Keira’s shoulders. Much as he enjoyed keeping his friends comfortable, it was starting to fall asleep. “So. When are you planning to head out?” he asked quietly.
“Tomorrow night. Reporting for duty Monday morning.”
Jak nodded slowly. Goodbyes were a fact of life, but that didn’t mean he disliked them any less. “Classes start Monday, too. They’re opening the dorms Saturday afternoon, but we probably won’t leave until Sunday. That should get us back to campus with enough time to unpack and get some sleep.”
Damas frowned a frown of fatherly concern at the weather app on his phone. “Looks like there’s a good chance of some heavy snow on Sunday. You two be careful.”
“I know how to drive in snow, Dad. Calm your ‘stache.” Jak chuckled quietly and closed his eyes. “Honestly I can’t believe it’s snowing. We’re going into a new semester, but it seems like it was just August.”
“And it’ll be August again before you realize it. That’s how time goes when you start getting old, son.”
The green-blonde flicked his ears back. “Okay, that was definitely not parental wisdom I wanted to hear as we start off the New Year.”
“My parental wisdom has no time and place—it must be taken as it comes.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Jak laughed, trying to keep both quiet and still as his shakes of mirth made Keira mumble in discontent. Daxter was so deep in drunk slumber Jak probably could have dumped him on the floor and gotten no response.
“Sticks and stones, you little brat.” With a huge yawn, Damas stood. “I’m off to bed. Sleep as well as you can.”
“Traitor,” Jak muttered. “Deserter. Too good to sleep in the chair like everyone else?”
“Too smart to join the ranks of those who will have ungodly back aches in the morning. If I hadn’t deferred on all those promotions they keep trying to frock me with I’d be brass right now. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to make a twelve hour drive without adequate rest?”
“Oh, go to bed. You’re making too much sense for New Year’s Eve.”
“Love you too, Jak. Goodnight.”
Now the only one in the room awake, Jak traced the soothing tick of the clock. Croc snored from the hearth rug. The old men snored from their chairs. Outside an icy wind blustered the windowpanes.
Somewhat grudgingly, he turned his thoughts toward the future. Sure he would be overjoyed when spring came and it got warm enough to play ball again. May and the end of the school year seemed eons away. But he couldn’t deny that his father had a point about how quickly time could slip by. He and Daxter had been so busy with the previous semester they hadn’t even mentioned what would happen after the next one.
The quarterback wanted to say with absolute certainty that he and the redhead would be roommates next year. He wanted Dax by his side, Phoenix and Razer next door, and Torn breathing down all their necks as usual. He wanted everything to stay exactly the same.
Realistically, though, that wasn’t possible. Student housing would honor roommate requests if both parties submitted them in writing, but neighboring requests were doubtful. Even if they all stayed in Praxis Hall, there was no guarantee that the running back and his surly friend would even be on the same floor as Jak and Daxter, or that any of them would wind up with Torn as their RA again.
He didn’t know if Daxter would be in the same dorm next year, at the mercy of state supported room and board. The redhead might not even want to be in the dorms. There were always plenty of students looking to shack up in the cheaper rental houses just off campus. Hell, Dax could even find a girl between now and then to move in with.
The thought of not getting to see Daxter every day was even more alarming than the thought of not getting to share a bunk with him anymore, and Jak’s throat did its level best to close up without his permission. Stop it, he ordered himself firmly. The end of the semester that hasn’t even started yet is literally months away and you’re worrying about fall already.
He would talk to Daxter about fall semester later, when it was actually pertinent. Maybe around spring break. Until then they could enjoy the excitement that came with jumping into the current semester. Simple as that.
And Jak still had to exact retribution against the little turd for the embarrassment earlier that evening, too. Maybe by tickling him until he peed. After the inevitable hangover wore off, of course.
Feeling better once more, Jak shifted into what he could only hope would be a comfortable position to sleep in and closed his eyes.
- // - // - // - // -
Bright and early Sunday morning, Daxter was rooted out of bed.
“Come on, Dax,” Jak prodded, gently shaking his shoulder. “It’s almost ten. We need to get on the road by noon if we want to get back to Haven before dark.”
Daxter rolled out from under the intruding hand with a loud moan of disagreement. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be glad to get back home, because he totally would. He missed his own bunk, his desk, even Pizza Haven. He just didn’t want to go right at that very moment. Pulling the blanket over his head seemed like the best option.
Unfortunately, the fake jock disturbing his beauty sleep did not magically cease doing so. “Seriously, we need to start getting ready. That storm is getting stronger the closer it comes, not weaker. I don’t want to get stuck on the interstate in that, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Ten more minutes,” Dax mumbled. Mmmm. Soft and comfy bed. It would be such a shame to leave it behind.
Jak crossed his arms over his chest with a snort. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago. I’m not your snooze alarm.”
The redhead feigned a snore.
Very sadly, Jak sighed. “Alright. Have it your way.”
Daxter shrieked as muscled arms forced their way between his torso and the mattress. “No, wait Jak—!” Too late. He grabbed the pillow as he was scooped from the bed effortlessly, the encumbering blanket still wrapped around him impeding his ability to kick. “Oh god, please don’t tickle me! I’ll get up, I swear! UNCLE FREDDIE, HELP, JAK’S BEIN’ A JERK!”
The quarterback was unimpressed. “Go on, keep screaming like a wimp. Uncle left before the sun even came up.”
With a groan of recollection, Daxter went limp. Of course. The old man was already off on his next adventure—some country in Africa Dax had never heard of to help with a documentary on rare monkeys. Damas had left the day before, back to base for duty. There was, indeed, no one to hear him scream.
He wriggled as Jak toted him down the stairs like a bundle of dirty laundry. “If you dump me out in the snow I swear I’ll make sure Keira takes yer weasel back ta Kras with her!”
“You are a weasel. Quit squirming.” Jak readjusted his hold as the pillow being halfheartedly swung at him dropped to the floor at the bottom of the stairs. “Why would I dump you outside when I could dump you in here instead?”
The ‘here’ turned out to be the guest bedroom so recently vacated by Damas.
Daxter blinked in confusion as he was placed back on his feet. “Yeah? Little too late ta offer me the guest room, ain’t it?”
He had to admit, though, the room was a nice one. A set of French doors led to the back of the veranda, now tightly shut against the winter cold. Framed artwork lined the walls. The carpet was soft and plush. And of course, everything had been cleaned and straightened with military precision, as if Damas had never spent a week there. The enormous bed’s sheets were probably tucked so well you could bounce a quarter off it.
Jak causally pushed open the adjoining bathroom door. “Maybe. But I thought I could at least offer you a hot shower in exchange for being unreasonable enough to make you roll out of bed before noon.”
Blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, Daxter padded in curiously. “Whoa! You’ve been holdin’ out on me!”
The guest bathroom was obviously Roman-inspired. The floor and walls were tiled with stone; the sink top and massive bathtub looked like marble. A separate shower lauded a modern upgrade with three shower heads positioned inside the plate glass and brass frame.
Daxter opened the shower door appreciatively. “Sheesh, yer uncle sure doesn’t skimp on the interior design. Why didn’t he do this upstairs?” The bathroom upstairs that he and Jak had been using during their stay seemed painfully ordinary in comparison.
“The tub would have fallen through the floor. He had to reinforce part of the cellar to do this.”
“Niiice.” The redhead poked his head into the shower, sizing up the water jets. “Color me impressed, big guy. You could fit three people in here, easy.”
Jak smirked. “Yeah, you could.”
Something in his tone brought Daxter up short. He glanced back at his roommate questioningly.
The quarterback’s smirk was now a full blown grin. “Just so happens I haven’t had my shower yet this morning either. Wanna share?”
He could feel himself turning red. “Seriously?”
“Sure. We’ve got the house to ourselves. Why not do something stupid we’d never be able to do in the dorm before we go back?”
It was hard to deny the logic in that. Daxter didn’t think he would ever be brave enough to share a shower stall with Jak in their hall. Even at four in the morning when everyone else should be asleep, the chances of getting walked in on would be just too high. Not worth the risk. But here, in the empty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, maybe he would take the chance. After all, when would it ever come again?
“Okay. Why not?” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.
Jak immediately pulled off the shirt he had worn to bed. “Cool. We should have enough time to relax before we go. Keira wants to stop for lunch together before she gets off at the Kras exit, too. Sound good?”
“Whatever you say, pal. Yer the one with the keys.”
“You can drive if you want,” Jak offered. Then he paused, shirt landing neatly on the rim of the tub. “You do know how to drive, right?”
“Of course I do,” Daxter scoffed. He pulled the blanket cloak off his shoulders and rolled it haphazardly into a ball. “I just never bothered ta take the drivers test. No car, no permanent address; didn’t seem worth it.”
“When you put it that way, I guess not. But if you ever decide you want to take it, you can use my car.” With that the quarterback began to strip in the unconcerned way only locker room dwellers could manage.
Clearing his throat, Daxter slipped back out into the bedroom to drop the blanket on the bed. Now came the really awkward part.
Alright, you can totally do this, he coached himself. No big deal. Bein’ naked with Jak in the shower won’t be any different than bein’ naked with him in bed the other night. There’s just brighter lights in the bathroom, is all—big bright lights that’ll perfectly highlight how freakin’ pale you are. An’ show off all those muscles you don’t have. An’ point out just how messed up yer back is. With a deep sigh he shuffled back into the bathroom.
Jak was already bare, gloriously oblivious to his resemblance to a toned, tanned, long-haired demigod. Glancing over his shoulder to check the redhead’s whereabouts, he smiled invitingly and stepped into the shower.
Locking the door quickly behind him (no sense taking chances, even if the house was empty) Daxter executed the quickest disrobing of his life and followed his friend into the spray. He shivered at the rush of warmth, skin pricking pleasantly as he drifted under one of the shower heads. The enclosed box, unlike the curtained stalls at the dorm, was already filling with muggy steam.
“I’ll wash your back, you wash mine?” Jak held out a washcloth enticingly.
Dax pretended to consider. “Tempting offer. Who goes first?”
“Since you’re the guest, I guess you get first dibs. Turn around.” The green-blonde swirled a finger demonstratively.
Pulling in a steadying breath, Daxter turned his back to Jak. His shoulders immediately hunched despite his best efforts to play it cool.
Large hands began to lightly knead tensing muscles at the back of his neck. “Don’t shrimp up on me,” Jak teased lightly. “This is supposed to be relaxing.”
“Tryin’.” He really was. If there was anybody he could trust, it was Jak. He had let the guy touch his junk; it should be no problem at all to let him touch his back. “Sorry. It ain’t you. It’s just… y’know.”
“Yeah.” Jak squeezed his shoulders briefly before backing off, an arm’s length suddenly between them. “Wanna stop? We don’t have to do this. Or you could just do mine, if you want to. I don’t mind.”
“Ha! Nice try, pal. Start soapin’.”
“Yes, sir.” Jak grinned and did as he was told.
Daxter closed his eyes as the lathered cloth began at the back of his neck and traveled across his shoulders, the soft weave scrubbing pleasantly. His ears slowly drifted up from their defensive slant. This wasn’t half bad. Though Jak took his time, meandering slowly across a freckle-smattered back and down a limber spine, it seemed over far too soon.
“Hey, you should totally keep goin’,” he murmured groggily as the green-blonde stepped back.
“Don’t you fall asleep on me,” Jak warned, even as he relented and dragged the cloth down Daxter’s unresisting arm. “I mean it—at noon we’re out of here. You can sleep in the car if you’re that tired.”
So maybe staying up until three in the morning trying and failing to beat Keira at Mario Kart hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. The redhead hummed drowsily as he leaned back against his bigger friend. “S’yer fault fer draggin’ me in here where it’s warm and givin’ me a massage. What’d you think was gonna happen?”
“I thought you’d be harder to wash than an uncooperative ferret,” Jak laughed. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Thanks for humoring me.” A soapy hand gently squeezed a pale hip. “And honestly, I was kind of hoping we could fit some loud sex into our busy morning schedule.”
Daxter’s mouth fell open. “What the what, now?” He craned his neck, blinking water droplets out of his eyes as he peered back over his shoulder at Jak. “Did you just say loud? And sex? Why loud?”
Taking advantage of the mop of red suddenly presented to him, Jak reached up to adjust the angle of the closest shower head. “Because we’re alone for the first time since the first night we got here and you almost bit through your lip the other night trying to keep quiet. Being loud for once will probably do you some good.” He grabbed a bottle of shampoo off the ledge built into the wall. “Here, close your eyes. I’ll wash your hair.”
“I was doin’ just fine keepin’ quiet,” Dax whined, shaking his head as a deluge of water poured through his hair.
“Of course you were.” Jak’s hands, bearing shampoo, sank into moisture-darkened strands of red-gold and began to lather. “Huh. Your hair’s really growing out. It’s pretty long when it’s wet.”
If his eyes hadn’t already been closed he would have rolled them at the abrupt topic change. Instead he settled on a smirk. “Oh, yeah. It’s my secret dream ta join you an’ Phoenix in the ponytailed fake jock club.”
Fingers scratched gently along his scalp, raising bubbles and goose bumps before twisting handfuls of hair up into a rather accurate semblance of horns. “Hey, don’t be rude. I don’t have to make you moan my name, you know.”
The redhead flushed at the thought. “Like you’d miss a chance ta hear that. That’s the one jockly part of you that ain’t fake—you love ta hear people yellin’ yer name.”
“Can’t deny it has a certain appeal,” Jak purred. He gently directed Daxter back beneath the spray to rinse out the shampoo bubbles. “Hold still. Conditioner.”
“Eww, no, don’t put that junk in my hair! It looks like jizz!”
The quarterback snorted. “Don’t be a baby. You want longer hair, you have to deal with the consequences of higher maintenance.”
As they teased and bickered playfully, warm drops splashed around them. Steam billowed up, fogging the glass and obscuring the bathroom outside until nothing existed but the two of them in their own small pocket of reality. Daxter went boneless, his back to Jak’s chest, and soaked up the pampering as big hands finger-combed the conditioner into his hair. Everything was relaxing and perfect. Especially the half hard erection pressing into his hip. He reached back to trace it lazily with his fingertips.
“Ready fer your turn?” he asked. “Or do you wanna skip straight ta the part where I drop the soap?”
Jak laughed into his shoulder. “No bending over required. But I guess we should probably hurry it up a little. I have no idea what time it is.”
“Okay. You wash your hair while I scrub down the rest’a you, then. That’s efficiency!”
Daxter couldn’t help but let his mind wander while Jak soaped his own hair and he soaped the rest of Jak. What would happen if he did bend over? What if Jak did? What if one of them put their hands up on the tiled wall and spread their legs like a fancy porno? Grinding on the quarterback’s carved-marble glutes would have to feel amazing. And the thought of Jak doing the same to him, body and cock heavy and slick with warm water and soap, made him shiver with nerves and desire.
Jak hummed in pleasure as Dax pressed against his back, arms around his waist for maximum stroking efficiency. “Not even going to wait until I’m not getting soap in my eyes?”
“Of course not. It’s always you feelin’ me up and teasin’ me. Finally I got ya at my mercy!” He trailed his hands up and down Jak’s torso, savoring the chance to explore the muscled plain. When things got hot between them he was usually left a brainless mess, clinging to Jak or the bed sheets without the wherewithal to respond in kind. An opportunity to simply pet and admire without being sidetracked, no matter how pleasurable the distraction, was welcome.
The object of his attentions twitched under his touch, body sifting subtly as he tried to focus on rinsing the suds from his hair and face.
“Like that, Jakkie-boy?” Daxter purred, tracing the V where Jak’s thighs met groin.
“What do you think?” The quarterback’s voice had gone gritty and rough.
The redhead grinned. “I think I know why you like teasin’ me so much. I ought’a do this more often.” Confident that his friend was suitably rinsed and wouldn’t really get an eyeful of soap, he wrapped his hand around Jak’s eager hardness and pumped once, water helpfully slicking the way.
Jak thrust into the grip with an unsteady sigh. “I have taught you far too well.”
Daxter glanced up calculatingly. “Hey, adjust that shower head for me. Make the spray harder.”
Unquestioningly, the taller of the two did. The water streaming down on them changed from a steady rain to a more concentrated spray. Daxter wasted no time angling Jak’s hips into it. Nimble fingers pumped around his base and up his shaft as the harder spray drummed across the sensitive head.
“Shit!” the green-blonde groaned loudly, throwing his head back as he thrust into both the water and Daxter’s hand.
Dax jumped, startled more by the vocal outburst than the wet blonde strands that smacked him in the face. He let go reflexively and stepped back.
“What’s the matter? Why’d you stop?” Jak panted.
He shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. “Uh. Heh. No reason. Guess I’m just not used ta the noisy thing yet.”
Jak drew him closer once more, keeping unreasonably calm for a guy who’d just had his dick dropped mid hand job. “Only one way to get used to something, you know.”
“I’m gonna sound stupid,” Daxter muttered petulantly, letting Jak’s arms wrap around him. “Even when I just whisper stuff I sound dumb.”
“You sounded pretty good to me when you were saying my name in the showers back at school.”
He pouted against Jak’s wet collarbone. “That was totally embarrassing. Whinin’ the dang quarterback’s name like a horny teenage cheerleader.”
Gentle teeth nibbled a long ear. Jak’s hands drifted down a slippery, freckled back to pull their hips together. “Have I mentioned lately that I’d much rather have you to fool around with than a cheerleader?”
“Oh, yeah?” Daxter snickered. It was hard to stay embarrassed in the face of such flattery. “What if I wanted to join the cheer squad? I hear male cheerleaders are all the rage nowadays. Would that be grounds for automatic cessation of friendly benefits?”
“That would be grounds for taking pictures of you in a miniskirt.”
Before the redhead could sputter a suitably indignant word of counter-sass, strong arms lifted him off the floor. He squeaked in surprise, his own arms wrapping around Jak’s neck as he was casually pinned against the tiles of the back shower wall. He scrambled for purchase before his legs wrapped firmly around narrow hips, Jak’s hands under the backs of his upper thighs lending solid support.
“Wise ass,” he muttered fondly against the lips pressed to his own, and melted into the hold. With anyone else he would have struggled, afraid of being dropped, or that they would both lose their balance and wipe out spectacularly like stunt doubles in a Life Alert commercial. With his brick-wall quarterback, he didn’t harbor the fear for a moment.
While making out against the wall was magical in its own right, Daxter couldn’t ignore that there were boners touching forever. Or for more than a moment, really. Bracing his shoulders against the tile, he tilted his hips against Jak experimentally. The move was only marginally successful, thanks to the strong grip keeping him held off the floor.
“Jak, c’mon,” he whined. “I can’t move right like this. You gotta do it.”
The quarterback hummed thoughtfully. “Do I? You mean, like this?” He pulled the redhead closer by the hips, grinding their slippery erections together between them. His hands gripped and squeezed the pert flesh of Daxter’s rear all the while.
Dax didn’t even have it in him to make a pointed remark at Jak’s fixation with his butt. It probably wasn’t normal how much he was starting to enjoy that fixation, either. He gritted his teeth against a moan, choking it back to a much quieter sound in his throat.
“You don’t have to be quiet this time, remember?” Jak said breathily, arching his own hips forward as he pulled Daxter’s in. “It’s okay.”
It seemed that the more he tried to make noise—letting slip a little moan here, whining a bit there—the more he was unable to make it. So Daxter did the logical thing and quit thinking about it. He panted into Jak’s shoulder as the ridged heads of their erections caught delightful friction against each other. “Ah! Ah! Ahhhn!”
“Like that?” Jak growled, grinding even harder.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered, letting his eyes slip shut. Sure he could just sneak a hand down and jerk them off, but there was something to be said for Jak’s favored method of slithering against each other like horny weasels. At least it left both his hands free to leave scratch marks down the back of his fake jock’s shoulders.
Jak groaned loudly when he came, fingers digging into Daxter’s ass in a way guaranteed to leave unintentional bruises on fair skin. The redhead couldn’t bring himself to care. Two of those fingers slipped as he shifted insistently, desperately seeking his own orgasm, and caught on the hitherto unexplored rim of his entrance. He gasped loudly at the foreign sensation, eyes flying open in surprise, then keened as he came unexpectedly all over his friend’s lower belly.
Well. That had certainly escalated quickly. Dazedly blinking water out of his eyes, Dax wondered at the power of such a fleeting touch. This would have to be explored further, when he had some time to himself.
“Was that loud enough for ya?” he panted, releasing the tight grip he’d unconsciously gotten on Jak’s hair.
The quarterback grinned impishly. “Wasn’t my name, but it’s a start.” He sank gracefully to the tiled floor, never losing his grip on Daxter, and folded into a neat cross-legged ball with the redhead on his lap. The water still pouring over them was markedly less hot than it had been before.
“I’d pinch ya for that,” Daxter groaned, shamelessly nuzzling, “but the only muscles workin’ right now are the ones near my dick.”
Jak’s helpless chuckle was drowned out by sudden thunderous pounding on the bathroom door.
“Okay, you two, I know you’re both in there doing ‘experimental’ not-boyfriend things, but seriously, have you seen the radar? If we’re going to get to the pancake house and on our way back to school before this snow hits, we gotta go! The weather station just announced it’s officially been upgraded to the first blizzard of the season.”
Daxter was out of Jak’s lap, out of the shower, and wrapped in a towel in seconds. “How does she keep getting into your house?!” he hissed, toweling his dripping body frantically.
“Out in a minute, Keira,” Jak yelled, stepping out of the shower with a laugh. He patted Daxter consolingly on the shoulder. “Come on, Dax. Pancakes are on me.”
- // - // - // - // -
They rolled into the outskirts of Haven U just ahead of the worst of the storm. Fat flakes of snow swirled in the headlight beams as Jak steered them through campus. He felt inordinately pleased as they turned into the Praxis Hall parking area.
“Here we are, Dax. Dorm, sweet dorm.”
The redhead dozing in the passenger seat beside him lifted his head. “Wha? We home already?” Killer slept on, curled warmly in the crook of Daxter’s arm.
Jak put the car in park, glancing up at the welcoming glow of the residence hall’s windows shining through the gathering gloom. Somehow it didn’t seem so strange that returning to campus felt as much like coming home as rolling up his uncle’s driveway had.
“You slept most of the way,” he teased. “Carbed out on all those pancakes.” He stretched, working out the kinks from four hours of driving. “This is it, you know. The new semester starts now.”
Daxter yawned, looking far from concerned. “New semester, huh. Think we can handle it, Jakkie-boy?”
The green-blonde looked over at his best friend, backlit through the car window by the dorm where their friends were all gathering. The sight, and the thought of the months ahead, brought only contentment. There was no trace of the empty, hollow feeling that had haunted him during move-in day that August afternoon so long ago.
Smiling, he chucked his roommate gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, Dax. I think we’ll handle it just fine.”
- // - // - // - // -
To be continued.
- // - // - // - // -
Damas: Nice choice of boyfriends, Jak. I like him!
Dax: ?
Jak: *blows champagne out his nose*
Uncle: Well, bother. There goes my plan of giving your great, great, great-grandmother’s pearls to your bride on your wedding day… unless one of you might be persuaded to wear a dress?
Dax: He’s got a point, Jak. Pearls and a tux might clash like whoa. Rock paper scissors for it!
Jak: *hack*cough*wheeze*
- - - - -
Keira: Hey guys! Hope I’m not interrupting your shower sex experiment, but pancakes are pretty important to me right now. More important than your sex lives, basically. Any chance you’ll be done soon?
Dax: How the hell does she keep getting into your house?!
Jak: I don’t know. It’s an ongoing issue. I’ll ask Uncle to install some screens.
Dax: And maybe spray while he’s at it? This is ridiculous!
- - - - -
Keira: Okay, Damas, I bet you twenty bucks they’ll officially come out as real boyfriends by summer break!
Damas: Keira, I’m surprised at you. Your friends’ private lives are nothing to speculate and wager on. The boys will sort things out between themselves in their own time.
Keira: Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, Damas.
Damas: …oh, what the hell. I’ll bet fifty on spring break!
- - - - -
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