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AN: Since I'm pretty sure I won't have Internet access tomorrow night, here's the promised update an evening early.

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Grimreaperchibi: I am so, so happy that you like it so much!  *huggles*  And yes, please... I don't wish to be killed by your muse. Don't let her get me.

CrabRangoonMonster:  If I posted it all now, that would be too much awesome.  The influx of awesomeness would destroy neurons around the world.  But yes, it is a bit like PD so far!  I used the general feel of PD as a springboard when I started the fic and went from there.

Kuromei: Thank you for being "all over this sucker."  I thought the regular updates would be a nice, refreshing change from "omg, did Robin DIE where is the update?!?!"  Haha.

Doll: Much as I wish it did, AFF doesn't have a way to keep track of updates. Just checking back each week is your best bet :)  Thanks for reading!

Mrs. Ero-Cook: Thank you for not flailing at me with a wet dish towel for deviating from my current projects!  Not that I've not been doing it behind everyone's back anyway, and probably deserve to be flailed at...

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Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

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When he awoke, the first thing Daxter became aware of through a fog of disorientation was the fact that he was being carried.  It was, quite oddly, a very relaxing feeling.  His head rested on a strong shoulder as muscled arms held him to a chiseled chest that radiated heat like it wasn’t nighttime in the desert and the one holding him wasn’t half naked.

Speaking of the one holding him.  He should be petrified, shouldn’t he?  Memories came back in bits and pieces, starting with the identity of who, or what, was currently carrying him so effortlessly.  Surprisingly, the redhead’s fear had all but disappeared despite the knowledge that he had been literally picked up by a demon.  He opened his eyes slowly, looking up as best he could at his captor’s—rescuer’s?—face. 

“Hey.  Where are we?”

The demon glanced down at him in seeming surprise, the dim light of their surroundings reflecting in his black eyes.  Underground.  The idea of a long subterranean tunnel lined with luminescent crystals of rock rippled through the mental space between them, followed shortly by a strong emotion.  Safe place.  Safe safe safe.

Daxter shivered at the rush of mental-emotional warmth that flooded his system, rivaling the physical warmth of the demon’s arms.  Maybe that unspoken reassurance was why he hadn’t woken up in a blind panic?  Huh.  And here he had always heard that demons used their strange powers to drive people mad with fright.  Thus far everything he had thought he knew about the creatures was getting shot down left and right.

“Y’know… don’cha think it’s kinda weird that yer carryin’ me someplace an’ we don’t even know names yet?”  He lolled against that muscled frame, basking in the heat like a little sand lizard, babbling because he could.

The demon huffed in clear amusement.  A moment passed, and then a decisive reply.  Jak.

“Jak?  Jak’s yer name?”



A nod.

“I’m Daxter.  You can call me Dax.  Great.  Now we’re on first name terms, that means ya can’t eat me after all.  It’s rude ta eat people you’ve been introduced to, ya know.”  The redhead giggled a little dazedly, still not entirely past his dizzy spell.  What he wouldn’t give for something to eat, and a big drink of water.  Even if it was muddy.  Hmm.  If the demon lived down here, there had to be water nearby, right?  But did demons even need to drink?  Surely they did.  Everything that was alive needed to drink, and his new acquaintance was certainly alive.  Unless he was passed out in the desert slowly freezing to death and this was all some crazy dream, in which case—

His mental wanderings came to an end along with the tunnel.  The redhead’s long ears perked curiously as Jak strode around a bend and the light around them grew exponentially brighter.  More of the glowing rocks, probably.  I wonder if he lives in some kinda nest, or if there’s actual furniture an’ stuff… 

When Jak left the tunnel and stepped out into the light, Daxter abruptly forgot what he had been wondering.  They were standing on a ledge above a truly massive natural rock cavern.  He looked down into the deep pit that lay out before them and felt his blood turn fluidly to ice, inch by inch through his veins in a continuous rush.  His head felt suddenly much too light again.  Dear sweet gods, it’s a whole fucking den of ‘em!

Before his brain could catch up with the night’s newest rush of terror, Jak stepped casually off the ledge.  Daxter muffled a shriek in the demon’s neck as they plummeted straight down, throwing his arms up desperately to clutch at those carved-marble shoulders.  Leathery wings opened in the nick of time, gave one hard flap, and Jak landed lightly on his feet, redhead still safely held to his chest.

Easy, came the reassuring mental buzz.  The arms around Daxter tightened briefly in what was almost a hug.  Calm calm.  Safe.

It was far too late for “calm,” though.  Not with several dozen demons suddenly staring directly at him, hissing and growling like the underworld’s own chorus.  Daxter whimpered mindlessly, holding even tighter to Jak despite the fact that they were now on solid ground.  This isn’t happening.  This isn’t happening.  He didn’t bring me all the way down here just ‘cause he wanted to feed the rest of the family, too.  He didn’t want to believe it.  He couldn’t.  What had all those warm, soothing feelings been for if Jak didn’t mean to protect him?  He pressed his face to the hollow place between shoulder and neck and simply trembled, the stone medallion still hanging on his chest smashed hard between them.

The hissing and growling got louder as Jak strode into the crowd, on a course for the myriad tunnels along the opposite wall of the cave.  Scattered thoughts and emotions began to bombard him from every side—curiosity, confusion, uneasiness at his presence, annoyance at the racket he was making.  Daxter couldn’t even be bothered to frantically protest that he wasn’t making a sound above stifled whimpers, because the body he was held against began to tense.

Jak hissed; a long, low, irritated sound.  All of you quiet!  You’re scaring him.  A clawed hand rose to press against the redhead’s exposed ear, as if shielding him from their influence.  I got you.  You’re safe.  Just be still now.  They won’t hurt you.

Somehow Daxter managed the wits to notice that he could suddenly hear Jak’s “voice” much more clearly.  Rather than simple words and feelings, complete sentences were getting through.  It gave Daxter a sparkle of hope: if the rest of the demons were as intelligent as that, they might be civilized on par with humans.  Civilized creatures didn’t eat other civilized creatures alive, did they?

They were almost through the gauntlet of gathered demons when a loud rumble commanded the attention of everyone present.  Jak turned sharply, ears pricking to attention, and Daxter caught a perfect view of what was making the sound.  It was actually a low growl, coming from the biggest demon seen so far that night.  The redhead pressed as close to Jak as was physically possible and tried his damnedest to think only the quietest of terrified thoughts.

Jak.  It was a tone of obvious authority, a perfect match for the enormous demon that uncurled from a fur-draped lounge couch to confront them.  He was at least a head and a half taller than Jak, with a wingspan that would have probably touched buildings on both sides of a narrow street.  Unlike Jak, though, and all the other demons that Daxter had seen with one color or another streaked through their wings, this one shimmered an almost florescent white—Daxter couldn’t tell if he lacked color, or if every color swirled through him.  Jak, what is that.

Jak raised his wings a bit, maybe some sort of salute.  It’s a Daxter.  The wry grin on his face was perfectly visible.

Daxter’s mouth dropped open at the tease in the comment.  Don’t make him mad, fer gods’ sakes!  He could rip ya apart!

Though he lacked Jak’s impressive horns in favor of many small, sharp nubs, the new demon was entirely intimidating enough.  He tossed his head angrily and hissed, baring inch-long canines.  His projections weren’t quite as clear as Jak’s, but were very much to the point.  I said NO human city!  Told you stay away from there. Only trouble.  Take that back before the rest of them come looking for it.

No!  He’s mine!  Jak seemed upset for the first time during the encounter, laying his ears back and tightening his arms around the shivering redhead in them.  He’s mine.  They gave him to me.

A snort of disbelief.  Humans don’t sacrifice to demons.  Not for a long time.  Only trouble.  Take it BACK.

MINE!! 

The audible shriek of anger had Daxter frantically covering his ears even as the emotional backlash hit him like a punch in the gut.  Jak’s lashing tail and unfurling wings startled the crowd that had been gathered around them from the start, sending them scattering quickly.  Apparently none of them desired to be caught in the crossfire.  Daxter himself was finding it a very unattractive place to be.  He kept his hands over his ears and his eyes tight shut, wishing desperately that he would either black out again or wake up from this nightmare—whichever applied.

Even the big white demon was visibly surprised.  He simply watched wonderingly as Jak forced himself to relax, hissing and clacking his sharp teeth in agitation.  Other humans will hurt him if I take him back.  He’s mine.  Argue later.  And with that, he turned on his toe-pads and simply stalked away.

Only when they had gained the relative safety and seclusion of a dim tunnel across the cavern, the other demons parting from Jak’s path like waves before a boat’s prow, did Daxter release the pent up air in his lungs in a shaky whoosh.  Holy damn…

Fathers, Jak grumbled, still obviously annoyed.  The possessive undercurrent of mine mine mine continued to pulse in the background of his thoughts.

“Father?” Daxter whispered hoarsely.  That towering hunk of muscle and terror was Jak’s daddy?  Well, didn’t that just beat all.  Though, if he thought about it, it did make sense that demons would have parents, and—

Like sliding down a slippery incline, Daxter’s thoughts detoured inescapably to a place he rarely let them wander anymore.  He thought of his own parents, who had tried so hard to scratch out a life and raise a family in violent, disease-ridden slums while politicians like Veger looked the other way and pretended that all was happiness and sunshine in Haven City.  It was probably for the best that his parents weren’t around to know what had become of him.  They would have been worried sick for him, cast into the wastelands and carried off to a demon den.

Jak stopped in his tracks, the ambient buzz of his feelings going from annoyance to alarm and concern in the space of a heartbeat.  He looked down at the redhead and growled, soft and uncertain as he soaked in whatever information was being unconsciously projected like an untended radio frequency.

Daxter sniffled harshly, unable to hold back the tears that rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the smooth, pale skin of Jak’s chest.  He had been pushed around, tied up, publicly decried, flown away with, and scared out of his wits in the space of a single day.  What was a little aching heart on top of the mix, really?

The current of Jak’s emotions coursed immediately in the direction of abashment and deep apology.  Your family.  They’ll be very worried, won’t they?

Daxter sniffed again, dragging his sleeve under his nose as he tried to force himself to stop crying.  “No, they w-won’t.  Don’t have a family.  Not anymore.”

Lack of ambient buzz from Jak was almost deafening in its silence.  Then the wave of apology multiplied tenfold.  He was sorry.  Sorry that Daxter was alone, sorry for what he had been through, sorry for frightening him back in the den with his hot temper.  A desire to comfort flittered anxiously, before a warm, wet tongue descended on a freckled cheek.

The action was so unexpected that for a moment Daxter was shocked into absolute stillness.  And then, when reality did catch up, all he could do was grin foolishly, startled out of his tears.  He had used to play with crocadog pups in the back alleys, back before he had become too tempted to start looking at the cheerful little things as a possible food source, and they had a penchant for face licking.  Unlike a pup’s tongue, though, lashing and slurping willy-nilly, the demon’s was much more precise.  It traveled in a conscious path across his face, smoothing along the tear-trails as it went and picking up the lingering salty dampness.  Daxter fought down a shaky giggle and squirmed, turning his face away, but that only encouraged Jak to hold him tighter.

“Hey, c’mon, I know yer smarter than a crocadog!  I forgive ya, already, sheesh!  Why ya wanna lick me for, huh?”

Sensing the dark moment past, Jak redoubled his efforts with much happier enthusiasm.  You laughed!  He licked at a long ear, which earned a shudder and a muffled squeal of laughter, then aimed another at the freckles smattered across a pert nose.

Daxter squirmed.  Jak’s lick did not change course. And, instead of swiping the bridge of his nose, the demon’s tongue trailed unerringly across his mouth, from one corner to the other, brushing between lips slightly parted with squeaks of laughter.  Daxter quit struggling abruptly, sound dying on his moistened lips as his eyes widened. 

Jak reared his head back, looking as surprised as the redhead.  His ears tipped back, and despite the dimness of the tunnel, obvious color was creeping into those pale cheeks.  … sorry.

“Well don’t be, ya ditzy demon.”  Before he could stop himself, Daxter reached up with both hands and grabbed Jak by the horns.  Jak’s startled rumble was cut off as the redhead pulled him firmly down into a proper kiss. 

Maybe it made him insane to be willingly kissing a demon, but just then he couldn’t give much less of a damn.  That demon happened to be the only being who had shown him a kindness in as long as he could remember; a rather sad thought, but there it was.  Unlike so many who professed to “rescue” young street waifs, Jak didn’t even expect anything in return.  Certainly not gratitude of this kind.  Not a flicker of it had crossed his thoughts, not even when he was bent up on that strange “mine-mine-mine” idea.

But Jak was thinking about it now.  And Daxter was glad.  He could feel the flash of sudden interest from the demon, the tingle of concern slowly fading and the beginnings of affection blooming like shoots of green in the spring as Jak slowly relaxed and kissed him back.  It made the redhead giddy, stomach fluttering in something that wasn’t fear, for a change. 

That tongue traced his tingling lips again and Daxter shivered, pressing closer into what was now unquestionably an embrace rather than a simple hold meant to transport him from A to B.  This was all new to him—not just the demon-kissing part, but the kissing in general.  He had been one of the fortunate few street rats able to get by, first on petty thievery and later by scrounging up artifacts from the crumbling tunnels under the city, without ever having to put his body on the line for a bite to eat.  This intimate press of lips and limbs was uncharted, and exciting, territory.  What did it matter that his chosen partner was a bit different?  Affection was affection, especially for someone used to getting none at all.  And he would have to be blind not to realize that, demon or not, male or not, Jak was beautiful.

A low rumbling sound began to permeate the still air.  It took a few moments to realize that it was coming from Jak.  Daxter tentatively threaded his hands into that fall of thick white hair and the rumble ramped up a notch, Jak’s black eyes slipping closed in obvious pleasure at the touch.

“You can purr?” Dax whispered in surprise, but quickly smiled. Who knew demons could be cute?

A playful, teasing feeling rippled between them as Jak nibbled at the redhead’s lower lip.  Then his tongue was back, asking for permission that Daxter unhesitatingly gave before slipping completely inside.

Daxter couldn’t help but moan at the feeling.  His hands tightened in Jak’s hair as his heart and eyelids fluttered.  His patched, baggy pants felt suddenly too tight, and he wished he wasn’t being held in such a way that he couldn’t press up against that hot, hard body.  For the first time since he had woken up deep in demon territory he wanted Jak to put him down.  He wanted his feet on the floor, to be held in a different way.  Or maybe for Jak to back him up against the wall of the tunnel and—

With a gasp, Jak pulled away.  Wait.  Stop.

Daxter whined at the unexpected loss, blinking up a bit dazedly.  Stop?  Why?  He knew for absolute fact that Jak was enjoying this just as much as he was.  While common sense said he should be terrified at the thought of arousing a demon, he definitely wasn’t ready for the experience to end.

Later.  Jak’s breathing was strained as he straightened awkwardly and resumed the walk down the tunnel.  If you want to, later.  You need to eat.  You need rest.

“What, passin’ out on ya earlier didn’t count as rest?” Dax joked weakly, trying to cover his own shaky breaths and uncomfortable erection.  However, now that it was mentioned, his stomach did feel like a hollow chasm.  Maybe Jak had a point.  “Okay.  Later, then.  I’m starvin’.  Just… promise ya won’t sit me down at the family table next ta yer dad.  You may not wanna eat me, but that guy?  Takin’ no chances!”

Jak nodded vigorously and projected the image of a quiet, cozy room.  The air of possessiveness surrounding said image meant that it was probably Jak’s own private space.  We’ll eat together.  Just you and me.

That sounded like a fantastic plan to Daxter.  He relaxed once more into Jak’s arms, arousal slowly fading but leaving the warmth and happiness behind.  Who would have thought that such a terrible day could be so drastically improved by something as simple as a kiss?

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To be continued next week, same Bat time, same Bat channel!

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