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Hush	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 8123 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Jak & Daxter, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Ch. 1
- 2-ch. 2
- 1
- 2
AN:   Well… I’m not entirely sure what to say about this one. It began as a slightly tipsy test of skill and ended as a gift fic, and I became absurdly fond of it along the way. It’s also nothing like my usual writing style. Yes, the broken sentences and slightly dream-like quality were intentional. Maybe that’s why I like it so much… Anyway. Here we have teh Jakku and Orange Lightning, proclaiming their long unrequited love and… uh, doing stuff. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, profit from nothing. Jak and Daxter belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. And I sincerely hope they never know what I do to their characters behind their backs.

WARNING: If you have any objections to love of the romantic type between a man and his ottsel, then please, do us both a kind service and leave now. I repeat; if a furry/anthro male with a human male offends you, click the back button. Thank you in advance.

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     “No, Jak, please…” The ottsel whimpered faintly as a face nuzzled almost urgently into the fur of his belly, a quiet sound that traveled softly in the dark. “We can’t, pal, it ain’t right… not with me like this…”
     The other ignored the protest, if anything pressing even closer. “Shh, Dax. You’re human on the inside, human where it counts. That’s never changed. Just shh…”
     “Stop… Jak…” The plea was halfhearted. Slowly, the weak struggles ended. As if bowing to the inevitable, the small orange creature at last became still and accepted the tender touches.
     Sensing victory, firm hands braced behind a small, sleek back changed their hold from confining to comforting, brushing soothingly through ruffled fur. The face continued to explore a soft front, smooth cheek drifting across tiny, heaving chest and coming to rest over rapidly beating heart.
     A light, fluttering sigh emanated from above as small, delicate hands slowly descended to carefully grip long ears. Bending slightly, Daxter hesitantly laid his own cheek against his friend’s forehead.
     There they halted for a long moment, unwilling to stop but hesitant to go on.
     Finally, unable to stand the wait any longer, the green-blonde cautiously tilted his head once again.
     A startled squeak escaped the ottsel as the cheek against his chest disappeared and, in its place, rough lips gently met smooth fur. They traveled upward at a steady pace, pressing softly against fragile sternum, shoulder blade and clavicle in turn. There was a quiet gasp as the roving mouth moved on to a slender, arched neck.
     “Jak…”
     The murmured name escaped, a solitary sound before speech and even breathing were halted, mouths gently meeting in a first, sweet kiss. The smaller moaned into the intimate contact, eyes rolling back and falling shut as a rough tongue swiped insistently at his lower lip. There was no refusal, and the intruder was duly granted entrance.
     Slick muscles hesitantly met, traced one another and explored, the ever-present tang of alcohol and fresh zing of mouthwash alternately clashing and melding. Short, hiccupping gasps for breath gulped past tingling lips as the kiss finally ended, both weak in the knees, Daxter relying fully on his friend’s sure grasp for support.
     An odd expression graced Jak’s face, thumbs gently tracing velvet furred hipbones above the denim waist of ottsel-sized pants, fingers and palms carefully steady on the lower back.
     “Watsa’matter, pal? That’s a weird face yer makin’ there. Don’t complain if ya got fur in yer mouth, ‘cause none’a this was my ide—”
     The ottsel’s soft, nervous chatter abruptly ceased as Jak once again claimed his friend’s mouth, far more forceful now, and swiftly rose from his position on the low bar stool. “Shh. Come on, let’s go.”
     “Go? Go where? Jak?” A squeak, quickly stifled in the front of Jak’s shirt as Daxter was suddenly lifted from the countertop and held tight to the racer’s chest, carried swiftly in the low light toward darkened stairs.
     “I said, shh. Just hush.”
     “Jak, please buddy, not upstairs.” A low whine of entreaty, thin arms creeping around a strong neck of their own accord. “It’s gone too far already, we can’t…”
     “Yeah we can. Don’t worry Dax, it’ll be okay.”
   Wooden stairs and floorboards creaked and groaned, drowning out unconscious whines and whimpers as the landing was reached too quickly. Small fingers twisted desperately in green-blonde strands, face hidden in the warm crook of a strong neck.
     Down the dark hall, through an open door pulled firmly shut behind them, Jak carried his small friend. He stepped slowly, carefully through the black, placed Daxter gently on the small bed and switched on a lamp, dim light striking uncertain eyes.
     “Wait here.” A reassuring caress before Jak moved away.
     Daxter watched warily, ears flattened, slowly sinking into the covers as his companion moved to the door again. *Snap.* A decisive click of the deadbolt. No way out. He crouched low by the pillows as Jak slowly returned.
     “Big guy, just listen.” It was a nervous, bordering on frightened plea. Orange hackles rose without conscious control, reflex to being cornered. “I know ya love me, ya proved that already, we don’t hav’ta do any more!”
   “What if I want to?”
     A solemn stare. Deep blue eyes met and held, and Daxter’s protests died. He shrank back, hiding in the pillows as Jak began to take off his gloves. “No…” Too much. Not ready. Not looking like… “Jak, yer too good fer this!”
     Shirt, scarf, armor, boots hit the floor. “Shh, Dax, it’s okay, it’s okay… I don’t care… Love you, don’t care, won’t hurt you. Never hurt you. Shh…”
     Quiet for a moment, then a whispered, helpless sigh. Defeated. Resigned. “…turn off the light, at least.”
     With a click of the lamp darkness returned, soothing somewhat. Old springs squeaked as Jak slid onto the ratty mattress, feeling carefully to make sure Daxter was still there. He was, and the racer quickly nudged him closer. Pressing the shivering ottsel gently to the pillow, he kissed prominent ribs, heaving chest, fuzzy cheek.
     “You’re beautiful, you know?” Whispers through corn-silk fur, barely heard. “Beautiful orange fur, gorgeous yellow, so bright. Cheers me up, did you know that? Perfect nose, perfect ears, paws. Soft, so soft…”
     “Cut the crap, Jak.” An arch under the touches, weak movements but strong voice. “I’m an animal, period. We gonna do this or what?” Habit, instinct, a combination of the two and the smaller struggled up, tried to clamber onto his friend’s chest.
     “Here, Dax.” A guiding whisper in the dark. “Let’s do it like this.”
     The ottsel went limp, lanky figure offering no resistance when Jak rolled and he was lifted, turned with gentle hands. In a moment both lay on their backs, Daxter held tight to Jak’s taut torso with his head on a winged collarbone, wild heartbeats one above the other.
     Gentle fingers, callused fingers slid cautiously beneath the waistband of tiny blue pants, prying a moan from the wearer. “Precursors… Jak…”
     A wide hand under the small of Daxter’s back, lifting up enough to tug the pants down and off. Their meager protection gone he shifted uneasily, unconsciously eliciting a shudder from his friend as satin fur brushed bare, scarred skin.
     Bypassing Daxter, a shaky hand felt down to unbutton white pants, usually baggy but now painfully tight. Swift strokes down a hard shaft, twice, three times and the hand returned to lie, light but unbearably tense, over Daxter’s thin middle.
     A pause descended. Silence but for deep, rasping breaths, already labored. Hard, leaking length that could be touched if a tail or hind foot twitched. Stiff, dripping member inching from a soft, velvet sheath that might be stroked with the tiniest movement of a large hand.
     Finally, aching, straining, Jak could take no more. With a slow, decisive movement, down and down, he tracked his hand softly through the thick ruff of fur fluffing Daxter’s narrow chest. The hand trailed down the soft stomach and settled firmly on the apex of leaner, quivering thighs, easily covering the entire area.
     “Ahh Jak!” The low wail was bitten back, knuckles of a still-gloved hand clenched tightly in small, sharp teeth. Feather light hips slammed upwards as eager fingers began to explore.
     Slick warmth already slippery with pearlescence, soft and hard at once slid easily between two large fingers. Long back legs kicked helplessly, a convulsive thrash as Jak began a steady rhythm.
     Stretching out one leg Daxter groped blindly, frantically with one foot, spastically curling toes finally brushing their goal. Jak sucked in a harsh breath as his length was suddenly taken between a rough paw pad and the sinewy muscle of a curled tail, both appendages moving in unison over and around his need, jerky and hesitant but still… still there.
     “Watch… watch your claws, Dax,” was all he could manage to gasp.
     “I’m—ah!—watchin’ it… hate ta say it, but… ahh, right there…! Now ain’t the time ta get particular, Jak.”
     A shaky laugh and no more was said. No more was needed.
     Somehow they found a tempo.
     Daxter’s sporadic squirming quieted, fell in time with the movement of Jak’s fingers. The hero’s unoccupied palm held gently but firmly to the ottsel’s slim, undulating hips, offering an anchor. Small orange hands clutched tightly to the larger one curled over his lower body, desperate squeaks forced from deep inside a resisting throat as Daxter tried valiantly to brace himself, stay in time with Jak.
     Jak too shivered, shuddered, fought to stifle groans as the movements of Daxter’s paw and tail began to match those of his fingers on the ottsel. Strong hips shifted, then thrust, finally arching into the grip that became surer, more forceful with every passing moment. The hand on his friend unconsciously sped up.
     “Dammit Jak… nngh… Precursors, that’s good!”
     All the green-blonde could do was grit his teeth and stifle a moan, gripping Daxter’s hip tighter in warning as he tossed his head on the sweat-damp pillow. It couldn’t last.
     Daxter’s hands gripped back tighter in response, rapidly flickering ears tickling the underside of Jak’s chin. Without preamble his strong tail twined tighter, wrapped almost completely around the hero’s slick length as the pad and toes of his back paw rubbed carefully but firmly over the leaking tip.
     Jak cursed loudly and bucked as he came, tried his hardest to keep his hold gentle. Mustn’t hurt, mustn’t bruise, mustn’t break any bones in a fit of unbridled ecstasy… He rotated his fingers sharply while riding the waves of pleasure and dimly heard Daxter cry out.
     He was brought back to his senses, though, when the ottsel squirmed out of his grasp.                                         Almost violently Jak’s hands were shoved away as Daxter arched and doubled over, managed to catch most of his release in one cupped, trembling hand. He lay limply on Jak’s chest, eyes falling closed, breathing heavy… until Jak reached down and roughly grabbed one painfully thin wrist. Brought it up under weak protest and licked a firm trail from wrist to fingertips, tongue nearly fitting the palm and effectively cleaning most of the mess.
     A compulsive shudder and a moan from the ottsel. There was silence for a moment, deep, panting breaths, but followed by a low growl. Daxter rolled over, glaring at the hero with teeth half bared.
     “Why… did ya freakin’ hav’ta do that?!”
     “Do what?” Jak was stunned.
     “That! All of it! Why?!” The smaller was snarling, nearly crying. A clenched fist, tiny but hard, crashed into the green-blonde’s chest. “S’never gonna be the same! We’re never gonna have it the way it should be! Why’d ya hav’ta go an’… an’ remind me…?”
     “Because I haven’t given up, Dax.” Strong hands clenched around smaller, furry shoulders, giving a gentle but firm shake. “I haven’t given up getting you back to normal. And neither should you.”
     Blue eyes met and held, gazing for long moments. A sniffle, a sigh, an acquiescence.
     “It’s gonna be okay. Promise.”
     “Right. Right. S-sorry.”
     Blankets shifted and rustled, pulled higher for the ottsel to squirm under. Soon they were settled, fuzzy cheek once again pillowed on bare chest. Fingers absently traced soft, warm skin, their counterparts stroking silky fur. Jak reached down in the dark, gathered the small chin under a finger and lifted it for one final, tender kiss.
     “Soon. We’ll find a way.”
     “Yeah. Sure we will. Love ya, Jak.”
     In time with gentle breaths, gentler caresses, they drifted off. Hero and sidekick. Human and ottsel. Best friends and lovers with warmth, trust, limitless acceptance between them.
     Some things never change.

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Hush