Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Home	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 6955 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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-Epilogue
- 3
- 4
- 5
- - - - -
Mrs. Ero-Cook: Santa!Jak stopped at my house. I started singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and he ran away again. Such is life, alas.
Kuromei: Glad you enjoyed Mar and Tess cuteness!
Grimreaperchibi: You get first dibs on Widget, you know. Since it’s your fault he’s in there at all. I’m glad you still like your special fic! *hugs*
Franko: Yes, Jak has his reasons for being stingy with the lovin’ for now. All will be revealed next Friday. And if you can make every day be Friday, I will love and worship you forever! Lol
Amaronith: *d’awwwws in concert*
Doll: Oh, yes, there will be trouble. Where would the Demolition Duo be without trouble to get into?! And yes, demon!Jak is pretty much normal Jak’s sane, functioning mind in Dark Jak’s body. Plus wings and tails.
CrabRangoonMonster: Every Tess loves every Daxter, in any and every incarnation. It’s an indelible fact of the Cosmos. And you are exactly right, Mar is “the Kid.”
Donalgraeme: Thank you! There shall be more fluffyness.
Truthasfasasitgoes: Keeping people on their toes and unaware of my next move is what I do best, bwa-ha-ha-ha. But, augh, I can’t handle the staring! *hides*
- - - - -
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The sun, sand, and stones were still hot at the end of the day. Though evening was falling across the wastelands, shadows lengthening along the piles of rocks that bordered the small desert oasis, a pleasant heat still lingered. A small demon with green hair and blue wings used the remaining light to his advantage: with so many boulders to jump from, how could he not take the opportunity to practice his flying?
“Be careful, kid. Wouldn’t want ya ta sprain somethin’ in those teeny wingies of yers.” Daxter had stretched out under a stand of scraggly trees. One eye closed and the other on his charge, he smiled. He was more than content with the role of babysitter while the rest of the demon clan went hunting.
In the past two months he had learned more truths about demon culture than he had ever heard lies about back in Haven. In many respects, he had been accepted into Jak’s community—a miracle he was still trying to wrap his brain around, given that he had never been accepted even in the human community he had been booted out of. While curious about him at first, the demons had soon come to treat him largely as a member of the pack.
Sure he had no wings, but he was able to get up and down the rock wall of the main den cavern with a long rope ladder he had woven himself. He had no talons or fangs with which to hunt, but he could stand guard over Damas’s small son on their weekly hunting excursions in the mountains at the edge of the wastelands when all the adults were occupied finding prey. And, of course, he was Jak’s constant companion, which had to count for a large something.
The thought of Jak made the redhead’s smile widen. The pale demon was most likely still cruising the warm thermals far overhead, scanning the hillsides below for deer, wild boar, and mountain goats. Just before full dark the hunters would return with their spoils, and then they would all eat around the campfire. Dax still found it surprising that most demons preferred to cook their food—at least most of the time—but that was just one more similarity between them. And after dinner came his favorite part of the whole hunt-camp business, barring the initial exhilarating flight to the foothills clinging to Jak’s back: the part where Jak would wrap a wing around him next to the fire to ward off the chill of the night, and they would bask in one another’s company while a million stars burned bright overhead.
Flap. Flap. Flap-flap-flap-flap-flap-flap-flap—
The beats of Mar’s tiny wings frantically treading the cooling air in an effort to keep his toes suspended above the sand brought Daxter out of his mental happy place. He glanced back over at the young demon. “Need a hand, there, Widget?” he grinned, adopting Jak’s pet name for his little brother.
Mar nodded as well as he was able with both wings and arms flapping in his fight to stay aloft. His legs kicked futilely as his tail lashed the air behind him. If Daxter got his cupped hands under Mar’s feet he could boost the little guy up like he weighed nothing, giving him the illusion of getting just that much higher under his own wing power.
“Okay, okay, hang on a second.” With a stretch and a groan, Daxter picked himself up off his tiny patch of grass. “I better get the fire started soon, huh? Yer dad an’ brother ought’a be back here with some chow pretty soon—” The words died in his throat as he glanced up at Mar once more.
Something was moving against the face of the opposite cliff. What the redhead first thought to be a simple shadow or a trick of the fading light glimpsed through Mar’s fluttering wings was slowly taking shape—a tangible form slinking ever lower amid the steep piles of boulders. A long, lithe, alarmingly large form topped with something that shimmered in the gathering gloom. Dark, gleaming eyes, with a sickly yellow spark above.
“Mar!”
The little demon dropped to the ground instantly. He looked around with wide eyes, anxiously searching for the cause of Daxter’s obvious alarm. He seemed suddenly much smaller and more vulnerable with his wings furled.
The creature slipped from the cover of the rocks and rushed forward at the same moment Daxter broke into a frantic sprint, one hand tightly gripping the wooden staff he’d insisted on carving for himself. He ran faster than he ever had in his life. If the dragon-like Metal Head reached his little pint sized flapper first, it was all over. Metal Heads, the monstrous scourge of the wastelands and the main reason for Haven City’s high, ever-guarded walls. They could tear a grown man to shreds in bare seconds. Mar was little more than a mouthful.
Mar saw his danger a second later and shrieked with fright. Daddyyy! He instinctively tried to fly, wings beating with every ounce of strength they could muster after hours of play-practice, but he was simply too young. His wings were still too small to generate the lift he needed and they flapped futilely as he hung in the air, barely off the ground.
“Mar, move!” Daxter yelled desperately, swinging back with the stick that now seemed painfully inadequate. The demon boy dropped a moment later, hit the ground and rolled, and as the fixated predator lunged for him Daxter landed a jarring blow across its open maw.
The Metal Head reared back with a baleful hiss, seeming surprised at having its hunt momentarily foiled. Up on its back legs it dwarfed the redhead and the demon child, who had scrambled to his feet and huddled up behind his surrogate protector.
Daxter gulped and readied his stick as the Metal Head’s dark eyes focused fully on him for the first time. Good. He had its attention. There was no way he could do much more than make the thing mad, but if he could keep it occupied then Mar could make a break for it—if the little guy would quit trying to hide behind him. “Damn it, kid, just run!”
Mar whimpered, his frantic emotions buffeting Daxter. Will you be okay?!
Dax tried to keep his focus on the beast sizing him up as potential competition. This particular breed was decently big, very scary, and definitely dangerous, but fortunately not very bright. “I’ll be fine, now go!” He said it aloud and projected it at the same time with all the forceful emotion he could summon, and was relieved to feel Mar peel away from his back and scamper away.
The Metal Head immediately averted its gaze from Daxter to its original prey, now fleeing in the other direction, and it hissed again in anticipation. It was tensing to spring in pursuit when Dax swung again.
“Damn, you don’t take a hint, do ya? Pay attention ta me, ya stupid lizard!” This time his aim was good, and he struck it squarely in the eye with his staff.
It screamed in fury, one scaly, clawed foot lashing out at Daxter in a near miss before darting up to paw at the injury. Sensing an opening, he aimed directly for the glowing yellow gem above its eyes. Word on the street was, the skull gems of Metal Heads were a sensitive spot. Maybe he could manage to do the thing some damage after all, enough to convince it that he and Mar were too much trouble to bother with. He swung as hard as he could, bringing the staff down straight across the creature’s forehead—and it snapped, the wood cracking apart against dragon-like hide.
“Oh, shit.”
Ignoring the sharp sting through his hands at the impact, Daxter turned and ran. He cursed a moment later when he saw Mar, not far enough away at all, standing in the open and watching worriedly. “Fer the love’a Precursors, kid, come on!”
The roar of an angry Metal Head in pain seemed to be enough to jumpstart the little demon’s legs. He took off, Daxter close behind him, as the wounded predator gave chase.
Daxter took the lead in a heartbeat with his longer legs. He seized Mar by the hand and pulled the smaller boy along at his side, but it was still much too slow. They would never outrun the creature in the open. He would have to cook up some other kind of escape.
A dark crevice between two large boulders caught his attention when it was almost too late. “There!” He shoved Mar forward, forcing the small demon into the crack ahead of him before diving in behind. Not a second too soon. He was barely inside and able to turn to face the opening before the metal head’s nose and mouth were wedged in, snarling and snapping.
Oww! Mar cried as Daxter reflexively jerked back and he was crushed into the narrow back of the crevice. My wings!
“Sorry, kiddo, I can’t exactly—ahh!” The redhead pressed back again as the blunt muzzle withdrew, only to be replaced a moment later by a much longer front limb. Unfortunately for him, that limb ended in sharp claws that grazed the hem of his homemade tunic. With sickening clarity, he knew what was going to happen next.
Fate didn’t disappoint. The Metal Head’s next lunge brought it just that little bit closer, body pressed flush against the rock face to allow its arm deeper reach. Claws sank into Daxter’s thigh, easily piercing thin cloth and skin, and he bit back a scream of pain even as he pushed Mar back with all his might. The boy’s squeals of discomfort redoubled, but better a broken wing than certain death. The claws in Daxter’s leg tightened, scraping downward as the triumphant Metal Head tried to drag him out of the crack.
Distantly, a final dim thought made itself known. I hope this fuckin’ thing chokes on my bones.
Two seconds later Damas fell from the sky like a white thunderbolt, his deep roar of raw fury seeming to rattle the very cliff face. The Metal Head never knew what hit it. One moment it was plucking dinner out of a tight spot and the next it was gone to meet its maker, the incisors and all ten talons of a fiercely protective demon father buried in its vital bits.
Daxter staggered out of their bolt hole as quickly as he was able and wished immediately that he hadn’t. Snapping bone and crunching gristle were less than appetizing at the best of times. He swayed on his feet as Mar squeezed out from behind him, the blood dripping down his own leg lending exponentially to his sudden urge to throw up.
Daddy! Mar wailed, relief and lingering upset ricocheting off one another as he ran to the gore-streaked form of his father.
Daxter let out a shaky sigh of intense relief as Damas tossed the Metal Head carcass aside like a rag doll and scooped a rattled but unharmed little boy into his arms. Everything was okay. Everything was okay, and surely no one would mind if he passed out now. The fall to the very welcoming sandy ground was, mercifully, short.
- // - // - // - // -
Fix it fix it fix it FIX IT—
I am fixing it, boy, and it’ll be much easier if you calm down and stop distracting me! Ease up that grip or I’ll be mending broken ribs next. And you, Damas, quit hovering. The last time I needed your light energy to patch someone up they were on death’s doorstep, and scratches don’t qualify—not even ones this deep. My green will do the job just fine, thank you very much.
Daxter shifted as the arms holding him loosened somewhat, listening to the muzzy words in his head. His right leg tingled intensely as if the entire limb had fallen asleep and now the blood was all rushing back to it at once.
You’re sure he’ll be alright? Damas was, for once, projecting more worry than annoyance. That Metal Head could have killed him, easily, but he saved Mar’s life when he could have run. I’d have never expected it from a human.
I tell you, he will be fine! If you want to do something useful you can patrol the area and make sure there are no more of those atrocious creatures lurking about. Find one in a safe place out of season and you’re liable to find an entire nest of them.
That had to be Keira’s father, a grumpy little green demon named Samos. Samos was short, and so tubby in his advanced age that he had real difficulty getting off the ground at times. His specialty—Daxter had learned that all demons had one—was channeling the growing, healing energy of the earth. Over time, it had made the little fellow considerably more plant-like. On hunting expeditions he opted to collect the vegetable portion of the spoils. Daxter smiled as he nuzzled his cheek against Jak’s chest sleepily.
Daxter! Jak’s relief was a warm, palpable thump to the chest. Are you alright?
“Yeah, I feel fine. Just a lil’ dizzy.” And he did, too. He felt refreshed, as if he had taken a satisfying nap instead of biting the dirt in a dead faint. Though the shredded, blood-stained cloth of his pant leg remained as a reminder, the leg itself no longer hurt in the slightest. “You heard ol’ Green-stuff, it was just a scratch. Sure hurt like you-know-what, though. You should’a seen the size of this Metal Head, Jak, it was—!” Then he remembered how easily Damas had dispatched it. Its back had only come up to just past the big demon’s hips. “Well, it was pretty big ta me, anyway,” he grinned sheepishly.
Damas’ chuckle was a deep rumble. It certainly was. I’m happy to see you well.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one. Jak’s arms tightened once more, pulling the unresisting redhead to his muscled chest in an almost crushing embrace. Dax, thank gods you’re okay. His emotions were racing faster than his still-pounding heart. I’m so, so sorry. You and Mar were in trouble and I didn’t know. I wasn’t here to protect you. I never should have left you alone out here—
“Sheesh, Jak, calm down!” Daxter allowed the fierce hug and the nuzzles to his jaw and shoulder, but it still made him flush with embarrassment. They were, after all, in front of an audience. “It’s not yer fault, big guy. I’m alright. I’m not totally helpless, y’know. An’ I get the feelin’ that freak Metal Heads ain’t normal around here.”
They’re not. Damas frowned slightly. We chose this place for our hunt camp because of its safety. That a Metal Head that large would surface here concerns me.
What do you propose to do? Samos asked, short wings flipping mildly along his back.
I’m sending everyone back to the den tonight. We can’t risk sleeping in the open if there are more nearby. Especially not with the little ones.
By “little ones” he of course meant Mar and Daxter. The redhead might have been a teenager and more than able to take care of himself in the seedy background of Haven City, but compared to the demons his age he was almost as helpless as a small child. Not to mention his sheer physical smallness compared to his new friends. It was somewhat demeaning, but there it was. He relaxed against Jak and simply listened to the conversation, trying not to be miffed about it all.
So soon? Have you all caught enough? I’ve only found a few bushels of fruits and vegetables yet.
It was a good hunt. We have enough for another week, easily. I will stay behind with Sig, Torn, and Ashelin. Perhaps a few more of the better hunters. We’ll look for a nest and destroy anything we might find. Jak, I’m putting you in charge of leading everyone home. I know it’s late to be flying, but you know the way.
Jak nodded, arms never shifting from their warm hold around Daxter. Yes. The moon’s full tonight. It will be fine. Though his words were positive, it was obvious he was still badly shaken. Daxter leaned against him again in sympathy.
Good. I’ll tell everyone to finish cleaning the kills and make ready.
No sooner said than done. With the immediate threat dealt with and the newest clan member’s health scare taken care of, the carefree atmosphere of a hunt day resumed. Catches were shown off, cleaned, dressed, and packed for easy transport on the wing.
Daxter was eventually able, after ten solid minutes of persuasion followed by a genuine struggle, to get out of Jak’s arms. He went wandering through the crowd of busy demons, Jak following closely behind like a faithful guard. Many nods and acknowledgments came his way; by now even the latest back to camp had heard what he had done for their leader’s young son. The attention was all the sweeter for being unlooked for. At last, though, they finally found Mar playing with Keira and Tess amid the bustling throng. He seemed none the worse for his earlier fright.
Can I fly home with you? Mar asked, smiling brightly up at Jak.
Sorry, Widget. Daxter has to fly with me. Can you fly with Keira this time?
The demon girl grinned, carefully tying up a bundle of the goat that she and Tess had worked together to bring down. Yeah, sure. You’re not too big to fly with big sis yet, are you, Mar?
No, still small enough! With a giggle of delight he jumped onto her back, clinging like a sand burr until she boosted him up between her wings.
Oof! Yeah, you’re still small enough, but not for long. What are you feeding this kid, Jak? He’s growing like a weed.
Jak smiled, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. A moment later Daxter was reeled in again, pulled protectively close. To the redhead’s surprise, a possessive undercurrent was coursing through his friend’s emotions. A strong one, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since the first few days of their acquaintance.
“Jak? You okay, pal?” he asked hesitantly.
The demon didn’t answer. He huffed quietly, and the hand that wrapped around Daxter’s a moment later was trembling slightly. A pale cheek nuzzled Daxter’s forehead, warm breath ruffling the bangs sticking out wildly beneath the worn goggles that never seemed to leave his head. We have to talk. As soon as we get back. We have to.
Before he could demand to know what was going on right then and there, be damned waiting until they were back at the den, the signal to prepare for imminent flight was given. Daxter choked down the burgeoning questions and simply nodded doubtfully instead. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, big guy. Whatever ya say.” Jak had exactly the time it took for them to make it back to the room they now shared before he was going to make him spill the beans. His strange behavior was making the redhead more than a little nervous.
Safe flight, Jak, Damas rumbled. We’ll be back before sundown tomorrow.
Jak nodded and raised his wings. Daxter swung onto his back easily, arms around strong shoulders in preparation for what had become his favorite activity. Flying may have been no big deal to the demons, but to a wingless human it was like nothing in the world. Far from being frightened, he loved the wind in his hair, the ground stretched out far below, the feel of Jak’s warm muscles all working together under him. It helped that he trusted his carrier implicitly. As they left the ground with an easy jump and a flap of those giant wings, Dax smiled and hugged tighter. Jak would never let him fall.
- // - // - // - // -
To be concluded!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(2^nd)AN: I should break up the smut into, like. Ten different two-page installments. And string you all along for ten more Fridays. Bwa-ha-ha-ha.
- - - - -
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Home