Small Favors

 

AN:  Spruced up for posting, here’s chapter two.  The action ramps up here, for better or worse.  Fu fu fu.  I’m serious, someone better stop me or I will fill this whole area with ottsel smut.  I’ll do it. 

 

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Skunktail: Thanks for giving this m/m fic a chance!

 

Kuromei: Thanks for your vote of confidence, and here is the result.

 

Nahia: Thank you for your encouragement!  I’ll try to keep up the “good” work, as you claim it is, haha.

 

Feelindifferent: Thank you : )

 

Tainted_Emerald:  I know I already kind of replied, buuut… thanks again!  *big virtual squeezes*

 

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Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.  It’s better that way. 

 

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“Don’t worry.  I’ll help you.”

 

They stayed that way for a moment, Jak wondering just how this would begin, and more importantly, end.  Daxter didn’t allow the stillness for very long, though.  He wriggled in Jak’s arms, rubbing against whatever was hard and unyielding.  Rather than soothing him, the decision seemed to be making his jitters worse.

    

“Ya promise, Jak?  Ya swear?  Yer not gonna back out on me?”

    

“I swear I’m not going to change my mind,” Jak affirmed.  To add substance to his point he began to pet Daxter again.  Whatever it took to calm him down.  Calm didn’t seem to be on the agenda that night, however.  Dax kept his arms anchored around Jak’s neck and went up on tiptoe at the edge of the bar, stretching out long and lithe to allow for maximum stroking of his back and tail. 

    

Jak swallowed hard as Daxter began to moan once more, shifting from foot to foot and hanging onto the green-blonde’s headscarf for dear life as hands roamed over him.  They were still in public.  Sort of.  A saloon, no matter how empty, was not the sort of place one usually associated with this kind of thing.  Jak’s ear twitched as an exceptionally loud groan echoed in the shadowy recesses of the large room.

    

“Dax?”

    

“Hn?”  The response was short and incredibly distracted.  Daxter seemed to be trying to throw a leg over Jak’s arm but was having trouble, since Jak didn’t seem inclined to cease petting and let said arm be still.  It was almost as if the little guy was going to try and mount it, or something.  This was more serious than he had thought.

    

“I think we should go find that room Tess told us we could use.  Let’s go.”

    

Getting to his feet somewhat painfully, Jak tried to boost Daxter up to his customary shoulder riding position.  The ottsel would have none of it.  He stuck to Jak’s chest like a burr, fingers clutched around the hero’s leather and steel eco ring harness.  Jak decided to let him stay.  One arm curled around his passenger, holding him close as they crossed the room to the almost hidden hallway at the back.  Switching off the last light, Jak slowly made his way down the dark passage by feel.

    

“End of the hall on the right, she said… ah!”

    

Jak hissed quietly, his hand faltering on the wall as he searched for the right door.  Daxter was licking his neck.  Soft but very focused, a scratchy little tongue lapped first under his chin, then across his Adam’s apple, then even further down.  Jak shivered all over as a dry, slightly cold nose snuck under the fold of his scarf, shortly followed by that insistent tongue.  It tickled.  It felt good.  It made his pants grow even tighter. 

    

//Damn it you sicko, stop it!//  Jak berated himself firmly as he took a deep breath and continued down the hall.  //This is only to help Daxter.  He’s not doing this because he wants to—it’s just his hormones talking.  So you will not enjoy this.  It would be wrong of you to enjoy this.// 

    

Daxter chose that moment for an exploratory nip at sensitive flesh.

    

“Ah!  Damn it, Dax, wait ‘til we’re in the room, jeez!”

    

“S-sorry.  Can’t help it.  Ya smell good.  Taste good.”

    

Finally they reached the end of the hall.  With some strategic groping Jak managed to find the correct doorknob and softly ease his way into the pitch black room to the right.  Predictably, there was no ceiling light.  Stepping carefully, trying hard to ignore the increasingly squirmy ottsel in his arms, Jak found his way to the edge of what had to be a bed.  On a small table beside it was a lamp.  Ah-ha. 

    

“There we go.” 

    

Daxter was placed on his feet on top of the slightly faded bedcovers as the tiny lamp’s weak glow illuminated their surroundings.  Jak took a look around.  It was a little neglected, but that was fine by the hero.  He had until very recently slept in much worse.  Besides, some undisturbed dust meant that not every bar patron who had one too many shots and one too many dirty ideas stumbled back here and did—well, whatever.  It was clean enough for them that night. 

    

“Jak?  Hey, Jak?” 

    

The mental break didn’t last long.  In seconds Daxter was bounding to the edge of the bed to grab the cloth of Jak’s baggy pants and tug.  The springs barely squeaked under his slight weight as he bounced up and down, beyond impatient.  He wanted this show on the road.  Now.

    

“Okay, yeah.  I’m here.”  Jak sank down to sit on the edge of the low bed, careful not to land on paws or tail.  “Let me take off my boots first.”  And that was all he should take off, really.  No matter how uncomfortable his pants were getting.  Because this was all for Daxter.  He unfastened his footwear as fast as he was able, letting the heavy boots fall to the floor with a matching set of clunks.  Daxter was already clambering into his lap.

    

Absolutely no inhibitions, Jak thought wonderingly as the ottsel collapsed across his thighs without a single trace of the initial shyness he had shown when he had first asked to be petted.  Apparently now that he had secured Jak’s agreement there was no time for such trifles as embarrassment.  Daxter squirmed for a moment, finding a comfortable position, before flipping over onto his back once more.  The look he gave the hero as their eyes met was one Jak had never seen before; greedy and borderline adoring all at once.

    

The ottsel gave one last quick squirm.  “’Kay, ‘m ready.” 

    

Jak felt almost guilty.  As he slowly reached down and took his friend’s velvet ears gently between his fingers, finally giving in to the inevitable, he had to face the hard truth.  He didn’t mind doing this.  Not for Daxter. 

    

Hell, he had always been curious about his best friend’s new body in that way—it was just something that you didn’t talk about.  Hey, Daxter, I see you’ve unexpectedly changed species.  I guess that means your junk looks different too, huh?  Gee that’s interesting.  Mind if I take a look?  Yeah.  That would have gone over real well.  But now, when Daxter not only wanted him to look, but to touch?  Just knowing that this was the best excuse he would ever get to satisfy that old curiosity made him feel like he was taking advantage, despite Dax’s restless wriggles and mutters in his lap.

    

Dax looked up at him, concern obviously returning.  “Hey up there!  C’mon, huh?  You said ya would!”

    

The hero shook himself out of his mental stupor as a big hind paw landed on his abs.  Daxter was growing antsier by the second, staring up at him with an insistent, almost rebellious, pout.  Reservations aside, Jak didn’t plan to go back on his word.  Rather than answering Daxter he let go of those soft, twitching ears and wordlessly began the journey downward.  He could wrestle with his conscience later; Dax needed help right now.  And Jak would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched that the ottsel so adamantly wanted it to be him that did the helping.

    

Daxter sighed and cooed happily as Jak’s thumbs traced over his cheeks, smoothing the yellow fur where it blended to orange right behind the corners of his eyes.  In that off-handed way, Jak had thought Dax looked cute when he was human.  Now he had the same eyes, the same grin, the same expressions, all converted into a smaller and cuddlier package.  Touching that little face so intimately just brought that home all the more.  How he had missed those features over the last two lonely, painful years, even more than he had missed seeing Keira’s face, or his uncle’s. 

    

“Hey, Jak?  What’s wrong, pal?”

    

With a start Jak realized that his eyes were going misty.  He blinked rapidly and had to look away for a moment.  “Nothing.  This feel good?”

    

“Mm-hmm.”  It was almost a purr.  Seeming to immediately dismiss the possibility that something had been amiss just a moment ago, Daxter tipped his head back.  His eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as Jak tickled under his chin with careful fingertips before trailing even more gently down his bared neck. 

    

Absently Jak tried to imagine letting someone touch his neck like this.  To be so very vulnerable and trusting would be hard, at best.  Unless it was Daxter.  He could probably let Daxter touch him that way.  Now the ottsel’s insistence that he be the one to do this made more sense, and Jak felt glad that they had been reunited before this uncomfortable condition hit his friend.  Suffering alone was even worse, and he wondered how Daxter had felt the few times before when he had experienced this to a lesser degree, all by himself and with no one to help him. 

    

The tip of a tail was beginning to swish and twitch against Jak’s side as he petted lower.  The green-blonde smiled slightly, taking his time as he raked his fingers through that fluff of thick chest fur.  He scratched lightly and sure enough, a back leg began to kick.  It was adorable.  But it was also somehow sexy.  But it was adorable.  But was it suddenly very hot in there, or was it just him? 

    

“Keep goin’, Jak, keep goin’.”

    

Little hands were pawing at his again, urging him lower in time with that beseeching whimper.  Jak cleared his throat quietly and tried his best to ignore the blush that was returning with a vengeance as he smoothed his palm once more over the ottsel’s soft middle region.  There wasn’t that much lower to go before he would be touching… that.  Again.  On his own this time.  Oh, Precursors.  But that was why he was here, wasn’t it?  And he had to look sometime, didn’t he?  Gulping a breath, Jak steeled himself and glanced down at the same time as he moved his hand. 

    

Daxter let out a high cry of what sounded like relief when his arousal was finally cupped in a warm hand that wasn’t his.  His hips bucked up into the contact, moving his length in the cage of Jak’s hesitant fingers.  Jak squirmed before he could help himself—the feel of this hot, hard, moist, alien thing poking against his palm was just too much, and Dax was writhing around right on top of his groin.

    

“Dax, please stay still,” he gasped, unable to ignore the smaller body lashing in his lap.

    

“C-can’t!”  The ottsel was panting now in earnest, his hands clutching at the cloth of Jak’s pants on either side of his body.  His toes were spread as far as they were able, curling and uncurling just as spasmodically as his tail.  That was almost precious, especially when he braced his feet back against Jak’s chest to have better leverage to thrust upwards.  “More?  M-more now?”

    

With iron willpower Jak clenched his teeth and put his mind back where it belonged—on Daxter, not inside his own pants.  Just one more form of torture that he could and would put up with.  If he could handle daily intravenous dark eco for two years straight then a little sexual denial should be a walk in the park.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to that, too.  He tightened his grip a little, getting a feel for what he held.

    

Compared with that of some other animals, the ottsel’s lower equipment was usually almost invisible.  He knew Dax had to be glad of that, forced to walk around pants-less while still programmed with an all too human sense of modesty.  A sense of modesty that seemed to have been recently jettisoned like unneeded cargo from an aircraft with a fuel leak.  Seeing Daxter so unembarrassed did something good for Jak’s tumultuous state of mind, and he felt a bit more composed as he slowly stroked and looked his fill at the mysterious area.

    

The slippery length in his care seemed to fit the ottsel’s size perfectly.  A little longer and thicker than one of Jak’s fingers, it tapered gently to a non-threatening tip and protruded from a small sheath of soft, furry skin that was normally quite unnoticeable in the surrounding fluff.  Which meant that it had to actually be inside of his body most of the time, Jak reasoned absently, because there was no way such a perfectly proportioned thing could be so well concealed by such a scant piece of cover.  Curiously the green-blonde used the tip of his finger to pull down the sheath just a little bit more over the thicker base of his friend’s shaft. 

    

Daxter squealed unexpectedly at the action and threw his hips upward.  When they landed again, smack on top of Jak’s own trapped erection, the hero couldn’t help the hard answering buck that nearly catapulted the ottsel right off his lap and onto the pillows half a bed away. 

    

“Dax, please!  I can’t do this!  I’m not that—” ‘Strong’ was taken right out of his mouth as Daxter rolled and regained his feet. 

    

Suddenly straddled upright on one of Jak’s trembling thighs, Daxter began to grind down against it as he fisted the front of Jak’s tunic and buried his face in a muscled chest.  His tail lashed agitatedly behind him as he rocked, pants and gasps of breath puffing hotly against Jak’s skin through the fabric.  That he loved what was happening could not be disputed. 

    

“Then take yer damn pants off, already!”

    

“Uh, can I?”

    

“Yeah, do it,” Dax urged, the gyrations of his lower body never ceasing.  Jak could feel a wet spot slowly seeping through his pant leg.  “Come on, big guy, get with the program, here.  I wanna see you, too.”

    

Jak sucked in a breath through his teeth.  How was he supposed to argue that?  Even if Daxter was drunk as hell and horny beyond all reason, and had never shown the slightest bit of interest in male-male encounters before, let alone with his best pal.  He supposed that these were extenuating circumstances.  Besides, there was no way he could be taking advantage here if Dax had openly invited him to join the fun in that way, right? 

    

Right.

    

Peeling Daxter off in order to unfasten his pants was a little harder than he had anticipated, but Jak managed.  He struggled to get his belt undone and the buttons of his fly open, acutely aware of the ottsel draped over his leg, staring intently at the tent in his underwear.  “Something interesting down there?” Jak muttered, embarrassed all over again.

    

Dax watched the proceedings closely, obviously very interested indeed.  His nose was less than a foot away from his friend’s crotch as he stared with the kind of fascinated concentration only a long night of drinking and a brain bent on one goal could produce.  “Yeah.  You.”

    

“So what?  You’ve seen me naked before.  I’m not the one who changed.”

    

“Sure ya did, pal.  Ya went an’ grew up while ya were away.  Besides, I sure never got ta see ya like this before.”

    

Jak had no inclination to argue the point as a small, orange-furred hand brazenly reached out and landed right where he had secretly wanted it for twenty minutes.  Though the ottsel was obviously being careful he could feel Daxter’s claws through the thin, stretched fabric of his underwear.  It was suddenly imperative that all barriers be removed with all possible haste.

    

Easing Daxter back, off of his thigh, Jak raised his hips enough to slide his pants down.  In moments they lay on the floor in a forgotten heap as warm fur brushing up against his bare hip leapt to the forefront of his attention.

    

“Oooh… lookin’ good, there, big guy.”  Daxter’s purr of interest brought Jak’s perpetual blush rushing back even as the hem of his tunic fell to cover most of his arousal.  Apparently this covering was unacceptable, as the ottsel immediately reached forward to lift it up again.  “My turn fer looksies, heh-heh.” 

    

Jak stayed still, or tried his best to, as his friend observed to his heart’s content.  He wasn’t prepared for what happened next, though.  Holding up the hem with one hand, Daxter traced the underside of Jak’s erection with the other.  A subtle claw at the end of one finger came to rest gently at the base of his cock, keeping it pointed firmly upwards—as if that had been a problem in the first place—while a little pink tongue darted out to taste the beading moisture at its tip.

    

“Precursors, Daxter!”

    

Oh, how the mighty did fall.  Jak collapsed backwards across the bedspread, propped on his elbows, and stared down somewhat helplessly.  He had sadly underestimated how utterly amazing this was going to feel.  He had underestimated everything.  How little willpower he would have after months upon months of forced incarceration in a tiny cell with little to no privacy, constant observation day and night, no chance to comfortably dare lay so much as a finger on himself.  And now, here was Daxter doing it for him, and more.

    

“Hmmmn.”  Dax hummed, somewhere between content and wanton, and sped up the licking.  Then his head dipped down, and the entire crown of Jak’s length disappeared into a wet, warm cavern. 

    

The last of Jak’s control deserted him.  He fell completely onto his back, eyes crunching shut, as an unabashed whimper escaped him.  His thighs tensed as Daxter settled in between them, apparently for the long haul.  Jak tried his best to just relax as careful claws combed down his treasure trail and that incredible little mouth continued to work its magic.  Daxter clearly knew what to do.  He could trust Dax with aching flesh and touch-starved skin.  He could lie back and clutch the blankets in a death grip and just let Dax take care of him.

    

Blue eyes shot open.

    

He was supposed to be the one taking care of Daxter.  Not the other way around.  Jak hurriedly forced himself upright, trying to ignore the horrid discomfort of cold air on wet skin as Daxter was pulled away with a whimper and an indignant exclamation. 

 

“Hey, hey.  It’s alright.”  He swallowed with some difficulty.  “Let me do something first, okay?”  Taking the ottsel under the arms Jak carefully rolled him over onto his back again.  No more getting distracted until he had accomplished what he had promised. 

    

A warbling wail was music to Jak’s ears as he took his friend’s needy length in hand once more, now angry and red with the temporary neglect.  He slowly stretched out on the bed as he proceeded to stroke in earnest.  Part of him wanted to taste Daxter the way Daxter had so readily tasted him, but the larger part shied away from such a thing a bit too much, just yet.  What would it taste like?  Would it be unpleasant?  Would Dax be upset, remembering it later?  Better to hold off on that one, at least for now.

    

The ottsel’s slim hips met his hand in perfect rhythm.  Daxter gasped and squeaked continuously, his upper body twisted enough that he could grip double handfuls of the blanket near his head.  With what seemed like only moments of steady stroking, Jak felt a wave of wet heat rush across his palm.  Small muscles locked up under his hands as Daxter keened softly, suddenly seeming all too vulnerable once more.  A thick tail wrapped once around his wrist as if afraid he might let go before the little guy had finished riding out his pleasure. 

    

Small chance of that.  Jak gently laid his non-sticky hand on the ottsel’s heaving middle, trying his best to soothe.  There, he thought with a sigh of mixed satisfaction at what he had done and discomfort at what hadn’t been done to him yet.  He had helped.  That had to have helped.  Dax had to feel better now.  Except… 

    

The length in his hand didn’t soften, didn’t retract.  Daxter continued to roll and trill under his touch.  Jak wondered, with a twinge of worry, just what he had gotten himself into.  “Dax, are you okay?”

    

“Jak—more, m-more!  Again!”

    

Very hesitantly Jak kept his grip.  “Are you sure?  This doesn’t hurt?”

    

“Yes!  No!  Please!”  The ottsel looked more desperate than ever, huge eyes almost wild.  “Here, I’ll do you, too—just don’t stop!”

    

Before Jak could even properly wipe his hand on the corner of the blankets Daxter struggled upright and dove, back between his legs with his rear high in the air and tail thrashing like an eel out of water.  “Wait.  You don’t have to if you…”

    

His stilted attempt at speech fell on deaf ears, and Jak trailed off as Dax reclaimed his prize and began to lick anew.  It was as if his small partner was dying of thirst and he was the last source of moisture for a hundred miles.  Managing to keep his head, Jak reached down and curled a hand under Daxter’s restlessly shifting hips.  There was a squeak around his shaft as his fingers found their target, moving in time with the tongue that laved ever more sporadically over his skin.

    

He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

 

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To be continued…

 

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(2^nd)AN:   Here’s the deal.  There is more, of course.  We can take this encounter two ways.  One of those ways, dealing with a certain ottsel having slightly less-than-traditional anatomy, is one.  The other option is of the more “normal” m/m persuasion.  I consider the first option to challenge myself to step outside what I’ve written before, as it were.

 

Or, what the heck.  I’m perfectly willing and able to write two versions, and have readers simply read the one they prefer.  Thoughts on this would be great.

 

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